Reunion
by Picklepocket
Summary: In 2034, McKinley High hosts a special reunion to celebrate 25 years of New Directions. All members, past and present, are invited to attend. The past is canon to the end of S3, the future is in play. All in the 2009 club are featured with, as in the show, Rachel and Finn at the heart. A story in 10 chapters.
1. Chapter 1: People Get Ready

**Reunion**

**Chapter One: People Get Ready **

_People get ready_

_There's a train a-coming_

_You don't need no baggage_

_You just get on board_

**Finn**

He'd never been good with ties. He tried to persuade himself that it was exasperation that was making his hands tremble slightly as he undid the mess at his neck. He knew it wasn't, but it felt better to think that. Besides, there wasn't a cat's chance in hell that she would turn up. She had never turned up before and while this was a special reunion, there was no reason to think she would show up this time. Damn it! Why wouldn't his hands stop shaking? He bit down on his lip in determination and grabbed the ends of the bow tie.

"Night Stalkers don't quit," he muttered to himself as he stubbornly began again.

It was a sign of his distraction that he didn't notice that he was being observed from the door of his bedroom. The tall, beautiful girl smiled faintly as she watched him struggle. She found it hard to believe that this was the same man who piloted helicopters under fire with surgical precision, a talent that had saved numerous lives and earned him a Medal of Honour. Something was up with him and it was driving her crazy that he wouldn't admit it or talk to her about it. Initially, she'd put it down to his retirement, to the restlessness of civilian life, to the boredom of running her grandfather's business after Special Ops. Now, after something her uncle let slip, she had a different theory, one based on his past. His clumsiness was providing interesting support for it. She knocked on the door jamb and walked in.

"Here, Dad, let me do it."

Finn Hudson dropped his hands to his sides in defeat, sighing. He let his eighteen year old daughter take his hand, sit him down on the bed, and start to tackle the job herself. She made quick work of it as she always did and took a step back to examine the result critically. She leaned in to make a minor adjustment before she was satisfied.

"Okay, you're good to go," she declared, leading him back to the mirror to show him. "In fact," she added slyly, "you're looking like you made quite the effort tonight. I'd almost think that you were getting ready for a hot date instead of a high school reunion."

"Glee club reunion," he said, masking his discomfort. "Twenty five years of the Schuster Songsters, 2009 to 2034. It deserves a bit of effort, don't you think?"

"Well, I know Mr. Schu is pretty excited about it." Will Schuster was her godfather but in reference to him at McKinley, he was always Mr. Schu. "He's been looking really smug and he's had us practicing for tonight for months," she complained.

"He's learned something over the last quarter century then," Finn said dryly.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Your club won Nationals with nothing but your raw talent and songs chosen the night before while mine could only win with boot camp training and a campaign worthy of the Commanders-in-Chief. Old record, Dad."

Finn laughed. He and Ray were competitive about their experiences as members of the William McKinley High Glee Club under Will Schuster and their respective achievements. It didn't stop him tearing up with pride when he watched his daughter and the club perform two weeks earlier when they won McKinley's second National Championship.

"Anyway," she continued, "even with a backing troop of tone-deaf monkeys with two left feet, it was a no-brainer that you'd win with Rachel Berry."

Finn's training had given him some control of his emotional responses but mention of Rachel always made his face either blush or lose colour. Tonight it was the latter. Ray noticed and pressed home her advantage.

"Are you dressing up for her? There's a rumour that she's coming tonight and you are making all this effort…."

Finn stared at his daughter in shock, his face now white.

"He was right," she shouted triumphantly, "you did have a relationship with her!"

"Who was right? What are you talking about?"

"It was something Uncle George said that put me on the right track."

"So, it's my brother-in-law with the big mouth, huh?"

"Don't be like that," Ray pouted. "I remembered how you were at the Inauguration last year when she sang and I was telling Uncle George how you couldn't keep your eyes off of her. He said that wasn't surprising since he'd heard the two of you had been inseparable in high school. Why didn't you tell me that you two dated? Have you any idea how much cred that would have gotten me?"

"There's nothing to tell. We dated; we graduated; we went our separate ways. She found fame and fortune, I joined the army. End of story," Finn said tightly.

Ray's teasing response died in her throat as she recognised a rare flash of pain in his eyes. Not only had he kept this from her – and they shared pretty much everything – but it was something that had obviously affected him deeply. She was more curious than ever to know the whole story, but not from him, not now when she could see the effect it was having on him. She'd have to interrogate Kurt later. She kissed Finn's cheek softly.

"You look great, Dad. If she walked away from you, more fool her, and I hope she doesn't come. Love you."

With that, Ray left him to finish getting ready. Finn watched her go fondly, pushing away his thoughts of Rachel. She wouldn't come, of that he was certain. He looked back in the mirror. He _was_ looking good, he thought. His hair was salted with grey now but otherwise, he was still youthful in a face more lined. His body was better than it had been at eighteen, firmer and harder after years of fitness training that he had continued out of habit. Maybe he could use some female company. All glee club members of the last twenty five years had been invited tonight and he knew from his occasional visits to Will at the school that there had been some real lookers amongst them. He might get lucky. He dated casually, enough to satisfy any carnal needs. He avoided serious entanglement by making it clear from the start that he wasn't interested in the long-term. His marriage to Ray's mom had cured him of any lingering desire for commitment even if the relationship had given him Ray.

Voices downstairs marked the arrival of Kurt and his husband, George. Finn knew they'd make themselves at home and that if he went down now, he'd be tempted to lecture his brother's husband on his inconvenient lack of discretion. They had a little time before they had to leave. He moved instead to the study next to his bedroom to look for his old yearbook. Will owed him a better comment and twenty-two years was more than enough time for him to come up with one.

**Quinn and Santana**

"What on earth am I doing here? How did I let you convince me to come back to Lima? We never came before."

Quinn glared at her friend who was carefully applying polish to the long talons she sported. Santana waved her hand in the air, drying the nails and dismissing the complaint in one easy motion.

"I can convince anyone of anything, remember? It's my job and I'm very good at it, as your divorce settlement testifies."

Quinn snorted. "Yes, but why did _you_ want to come? You were as happy to see the back of this town as I was."

Santana thought for a moment before rising up from the arm chair in what Lima's finest hotel laughingly called its Presidential Suite.

"I don't know," she pondered, "call it nostalgia. When I heard that New Directions won Nationals, I got all misty-eyed. Hell, it was probably my period but by then I'd filled out the acceptance card. Once I was committed, I reckoned that I shouldn't have to face the horror alone. Besides, I want to see if Schu is still rocking those vests."

Quinn wasn't convinced.

"I know you, Santana Lopez. You've got a reason for dragging us here. Give."

"All right, all right," Santana admitted. "It's true. I wanted to see everybody. It's been twenty-two years and I wanted to check out how accurate my predictions were for the losers we haven't kept up with, like the Asian Nation and Artie McWheels."

Quinn laughed. Years ago, they'd created a drinking game where they made up entire life stories for the people they knew in high school. Each time a tale got funnier or more ridiculous, it was time to drink. As they got older, the game became less malicious and was more fondly played, but with no less hilarious results. The only one they couldn't do it with was Rachel Berry. The whole world knew her life story. So they just bitched about her clothes, her hair, her taste in men and her achievements.

"Besides," Santana added, "Jane's abandoned me. I thought she deserved to think of me gallivanting with my first love."

"She's hardly abandoned you. She's in London for three months on secondment. You could just have flown over for the weekend. As for Brittany, well…," Quinn tailed off.

Santana laughed. "Yes, as for Brittany. God, how did I ever think that was going to work? It's a good thing Jane's never met her. She'd know in a minute how mismatched we were and I'd lose a bargaining chip in the game of chicken we're playing about getting married."

Quinn gazed at her friend quizzically. "Who's stalling now?"

"I am. I don't know. Neither of us wants kids so there's no reason for it. Years as a divorce attorney sours one on that stuff, you know?"

Quinn knew. Her divorce had been brutal and she doubted she would have survived it without Santana, not because Santana was a legal barracuda which she was, but because she'd been a rock for Quinn's crumbling self-confidence. Quinn Westerson née Fabray was still an absolutely stunning beauty. The years and a little help had added to her charms, giving her an aura of untouchable perfection but, as had ever been the case, the woman inside was something of a mess, particularly when her carefully fabricated world came crashing down on her. She's met Roger Westerson of the New York Westersons at Yale. At first sight he'd fallen head over heels in love with her and he wasn't the only one. He had the better bank account, the better connections and the better potential and she'd let herself fall in love with him and the security he offered. They'd had fifteen good years before she discovered that he was having an affair with a blousy waitress that gave him the warmth he later alleged his Ice Queen wife lacked. Quinn ignored the affair at first but once it hit the papers, she acted, petitioning for a divorce. His family, who had never really approved of the favourite son's marriage to a nobody from Ohio, worked hard to turn Quinn into the villain of the piece, not anticipating Santana's ability to bite back hard. Quinn came out of it rich and a little less broken than she might have been, thanks to her lawyer. Now, she lived a quiet life in the Hamptons, doing charity work to stave off boredom. Santana tried to get her to go back to acting, but had so far had little success.

Quinn checked the clock.

"We'd better think about moving soon."

Santana preened in front of the mirror in the suite, checking out her still luscious body with satisfaction. She was in a favoured blood red gown that sparkled as she moved. She nodded as they headed for the door.

**Mercedes**

The mirror wasn't as kind as she'd have liked. Her round face was still smooth but there was no brightness in her eyes. That dimmed when they got the diagnosis and was extinguished the day Justin died. Now, the only light came from unshed tears, held back for the sake of her children and her sanity. It had been ten months and tonight was the first time since then that she was going out on her own. Her parents had persuaded her to return to Lima for a while so they could help her manage a hyperactive five year old and toddler twins. Her life and career were in LA but since her husband had passed away, she hadn't been able to sing a note. Sometimes, she felt that her babies were more upset by the loss of the bedtime treat of her songs than by the loss of their father.

She shook her head and walked over to the bed where her dress was laid out. She didn't bother to check herself again in the mirror, not registering how it showed her slimmer figure to good effect. She'd always been happy in her own skin and would have been as proud of her figure without the weight loss that ten months of grieving had imposed. She did wonder briefly if any of the old club would be there and if they'd recognise her. She'd lost touch with everybody after she moved to LA, finding life as a budding diva too exciting and too exhausting to make time for long-distance friendships. She'd had some success but not enough to get a major deal. Instead, she made her mark as a popular session singer and she had toured with some of the biggest in the business as a back up singer. She was highly regarded and sought after and that eased the irritation of having to admit to herself that she really was the Kelly Rowland to Rachel Berry's Beyoncé.

Rachel had it easy, Mercedes thought ruefully, just as she always did. She'd exploded on Broadway which led to Hollywood which led to the best and most iconic songs and to superstardom. She got the gongs and the trophies and the hot guys she was pictured with every day in the gossip sites and magazines. Mercedes was surprised to find her jealousy reasserting itself after so long.

"Hell to the naw," she murmured. She wasn't going down that path again. Self-pity wasn't doing her any good and her parents were right. She needed to go and make an entrance tonight, remind these people who Mercedes Jones was and would be again when she got her voice back. Mercedes grabbed her bag, her car keys and her dignity, held up her head and strode out into the night.

**Mike and Tina**

They'd been married twenty years. Tina Chang knew about the seven-year itch. In their seventh year, with two small children, she and Mike were too busy to scratch any itches as they returned to Lima to set up their dance studio. After that, it was all about making the Lima business work and raising their kids, one of each. She missed them, now that they were away in college, and wondered if that was the root of her current state of dissatisfaction. Maybe, she thought, but she was increasingly worried that it wasn't that at all; that instead she was suffering an itch, a twenty-year itch.

"Hon! Where's my shirt?"

Mike's voice drifted out from the bathroom, interrupting Tina's reverie.

"It's on the back of the door," she shouted back.

"Oh, right, thanks," he responded as he started the shower.

Tina returned her attention to applying her makeup, considering making more of an effort than she usually did. She and Mike had attended every reunion for the classes of '12 and '13 since they'd been back in Lima and she wasn't really anticipating that this one would be any different from the norm. She'd see Puck and Brittany, occasionally Artie, Lauren, Finn and Kurt, and she'd seen Sam, Sugar and Joe once each. Tonight was something else though. Tonight it was a special reunion for all the members of the glee club over the last twenty-five years and Will had worked hard to try and contact every single one of them. Tina didn't expect to see anybody from her club outside the usual suspects, but choreographing for Will and his kids since being in Lima made her excited about seeing some of the younger ones again.

The shower stopped and Mike came out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist. His abs still gave her little shivers and she smiled up at him. He bent down and kissed her cheek before grabbing his trousers and returning to the bathroom.

"Why am I so bored?"

Tina was horrified at the thought. She'd never articulated it before but she knew it was true. She was bored rigid with her life, with Mike, and with taking classes with bratty kids whose parents were the only ones with an interest in their children learning to dance. She looked at herself in the mirror and cursed as a tear ran down her cheek, ruining the mascara she'd just applied. She grabbed a tissue and wiped away the smudged mascara angrily before searching for the waterproof variety. She found it and laid it on the dressing table. She glanced over at the dress she planned to wear and made a decision. She got up and shoved the dress back into the wardrobe. She raced to her daughter's room and searched through what Ally had left behind, praying the dress was there.

Mike took his time with dressing and grooming, so it was a good twenty minutes before he re-emerged from the bathroom.

"Okay, are we ready to g-"

Mike stopped in his tracks as he gazed upon his wife of twenty years.

"Wow," he sputtered.

**Brittany**

Brittany was delighted with her new wall. She'd taken down the pictures of and notes on the current squad of Cheerios and replaced them with pictures she'd taken from the yearbooks of 2010, 2011, 2012 and 2013. One of the advantages of being the Assistant Cheerleading Coach at McKinley was access to the database that held copies of the yearbooks. She'd been frustrated that the only glee club picture from 2010 was of Rachel Berry and had to go through the yearbook carefully to pick out the rest of the members in other photos, but the later years were better, particularly 2012, the year her club won Nationals.

Now she just had to work out a way to get her bedroom wall to the auditorium.

She was saved from having to ponder this thorny question by the beeps of her phone. Her boss was calling.

"Hey, Sue," she answered in a rush, "I've finished. Look. What do you think? Do I need more kittens?"

She held the phone up so that Sue Sylvester could see the collage in all its glory. She walked closer to the wall, intending to let Sue's eyes linger on each and every picture.

"Brittany," Sue's voice blared from the phone, "Brittany! BRITTANY!"

Brittany returned her attention to the phone.

"Yes, this is Brittany. How may I help you?"

"You could start with a brain transplant." This came out before Sue could stop herself. It wasn't out of fear for hurting Brittany's feelings – that was rarely possible and never a concern to Sue Sylvester, proud gorgon of the cheerleading circuit – it was for the inane conversation that was bound to follow.

"There are brain transplants? That's so cool. Could I have a monkey's?"

"Yes. A definite improvement. In the meantime, perhaps you could explain to me why Will Schuster thinks I'm attending this abomination. I seem to remember telling you to tell him that I'd rather attend my own autopsy than have to watch anyone celebrate _glee_."

There was enough venom in the last word to bring down an elephant. Brittany, a lover of elephants, was unfazed.

"I know," she explained to Sue, "and I did, but then I heard from Artie."

"What are you talking about?"

"Artie Abrams, remember him? He's coming tonight and he's bringing a cameraman in case Rachel Berry shows up. She won't so Artie will need something else to cover. What would be better than the Cheerios twentieth title in twenty-five years? If you're not there, then Artie will probably do a feature on Will Schuster instead, so…"

Sue knew that Brittany, despite her eccentricities, had two very useful talents. The first was that she was a stunning dancer and choreographer of cheerleading routines. Her ideas were off-the-wall and the reason that Sue Sylvester's squads had returned to their winning – and profitable – ways. The second thing that Brittany could do, and Sue still didn't know after all these years if it was dumb luck or carefully contrived, was manipulate people to get what she wanted. Whenever Sue's bullying nature failed to achieve her demands, she sent in Brittany and nine times out of ten, it worked. Sue recognized that Brittany was manipulating her now. Sue hadn't been on TV in years, despite the squad's successes and it was very tempting.

"Fine," she barked out to Brittany, "just don't expect me to sit through any caterwauling."

Sue cut off the call abruptly as Brittany smiled to herself. It was time to get ready and she had a unicorn horn to polish.

**Artie**

There was nothing easy about being a PBS station manager. Between the constant hunt for funds and staving off ideological attacks from publicity-hungry politicians, Artie Abrams hated the major part of his job. What he loved was producing regional programming and at PBS, where people had to wear many hats, it was something he could do from time to time. When Will Schuster called him about the reunion and told him of his hopes to get _all_ the original members to attend, he decided to gamble that Schuster might actually do it. Realistically, Artie knew the chances of getting Rachel Berry there were slim, but it was enough to give him the excuse of getting away from the office work and getting his hands dirty again.

Driving down from Toledo had taken little more than ninety minutes and as he pulled into his mom's driveway, he turned to his colleague.

"We're here, Gail. Have you got everything you need?"

Gail Simmonds had joined PBS the previous autumn as a camera operator and Artie was pleased that she'd been available. Her work was incredibly sensitive and innovative and, if nothing else, she'd turn in something special. He also thought she was hot but it had been years since he'd let that sway his professional judgement. He asked for her because she was good and because he wanted the chance to work with her.

Gail nodded and opened the passenger door of the specially adapted vehicle. She hesitated.

"Do you need help to get out?"

Artie smiled. "No, I'm fine."

She exited the car and took out her camera, checking its settings. A woman opened the door of the house and Gail started filming, something she did out of habit.

"Artie," the woman cried, running to the driver's side. Artie was descending on the ramp, his wheelchair gliding smoothly off the tracks. The woman hugged her son for what seemed like minutes. Constance Abrams was a widow, Artie's father having died a few years before, and she'd missed her son sorely. She wiped away the tears as she stepped back and gazed down at him lovingly. Artie gestured to Gail, still filming.

"This is Gail, Mom. She's my cameraman."

Gail snorted at the inappropriate nomenclature and held out her hand.

"How do you do, Mrs. Abrams."

"Oh, Connie, please; nice to meet you, Gail. How was your journey? Was it horrible?"

"Mom, Toledo is just up the road. It's not like we scaled Everest," Artie joked.

"Really?" Connie smiled sweetly before offering a loud conspiratorial whisper to Gail, "So why haven't I seen him in six months?"

"Mom," Artie protested, "you know what a mad house I work in."

"Yes, I know, dear. Anyway, I am just glad you're here now. Gail, I've prepared the guest room for you if you want to take your stuff up. It's the second door on the right at the top of the stairs. I've made you a light supper too, in case they're not feeding you. Artie wasn't clear on that."

Artie grinned. "If I know anything about your light suppers, it's a five course meal. You know I only moved to Toledo to keep my sylphlike figure. I was turning into Buddha here."

"That's nonsense. There's nothing wrong with a bit of meat on your bones."

Constance took hold of the handles of Artie's chair, insistent on being allowed to wheel him up to the house. Gail stood back and watched, through her camera as usual, as the pair negotiated their way through the front door.

A couple of hours later and feeling stuffed from the wonderful food that Connie had provided, Artie and Gail set out to attend the reunion.

**Matt**

Matt Rutherford had left Lima the summer after his sophomore year in high school when his family moved to California. He continued to play football at his new school but he gave up on the singing and dancing. In Sacramento, there was no quarterback to be in the vanguard of guys doing glee and as a newbie, he wasn't up to taking on the challenge himself. By the time he got to college on a football scholarship, his performance days anywhere other than on the field were behind him and his subsequent career as an accountant didn't lend itself to flights of dramatic fancy. He didn't think about his time at McKinley often, although when he did, it was with fondness and a fleeting sense of regret.

The day he turned forty, he ended his four-year relationship with his girlfriend, a relationship that had been over for some time before that day, and moved out of the house they shared. In the two months that followed, he bought a sports car, hit the night clubs to dance until dawn, and generally made an ass of himself with various women in a spurt of male menopause. Waking up in a strange bed with a woman he didn't even remember meeting alerted him to his idiocy and he tried to shake it off, making plans to sell the car. That was when Will Schuster contacted him and told him about the reunion.

Matt's immediate reaction was to blow it off. He'd only been in the glee club for a year and he hadn't been part of the group when they took Nationals. He remembered Rachel Berry, of course, and the football players and Cheerios in the club, but the rest of them were dim memories and he doubted they'd recognise him. That said, it might be interesting and it had been a good time in his life.

"No, it's as ridiculous as buying that expensive machine in my parking space," he told himself. He dismissed the idea with a touch of reluctance and returned his attention to selling the car he had hardly had the chance to enjoy. Then it hit him. He could drive to Lima. The depreciation on the car was going to be a killer anyway; he might as well get some pleasure for it.

He'd taken four days to get to Lima at a leisurely pace, stopping at anything that took his eye on the way. Once in Lima, he'd checked into a motel, planning to stay only long enough to attend the reunion. He used his time until then revisiting some of the landmarks of his youth: his old house, his school, the graves of his grandparents, the mall newly refurbished. He went to McKinley the morning of the reunion and began to have second thoughts about what he was doing. The high school looked so old and worn and it dawned on him that those words could probably be applied to himself and everyone he might see there that he ever knew. If Will Schuster hadn't spotted him, he would have turned around and driven back to Sacramento there and then.

"Matt Rutherford! My God, what a pleasure to see you."

Matt was startled that Schuster recognized him so quickly.

"Hello, Mr. Schu."

"I think you're old enough to call me Will," the man pumping his hand said cheerfully. Will Schuster had gained a little weight and a lot of grey in his hair over the intervening years but he was still as enthusiastic as Matt remembered.

"So," Schuster said, "you're here for the reunion. Do you want to see the auditorium? You're not supposed to until tonight but given how far you've come, I think we can break that rule."

"No, no, it's okay. I just came to have a look at the school, see what has changed," Matt replied. "Surprisingly, nothing has changed."

Will laughed.

"McKinley is and will always be the poor relation in this town, I'm afraid. Anyway, I'm really glad you've come. I told Finn and Puck that you were going to be here and they're really looking forward to seeing you again."

Matt shuffled his feet uncomfortably. "I'm surprised they remember me," he said quietly.

"Of course they do," Schu protested, "you're one of the originals and we've all wondered what happened to you. I look forward to hearing all about it tonight, but for now, you'll have to excuse me. I've got to get into the auditorium with these balloons or Emma will kill me."

Schuster shook the large bag he was carrying and grinned. He waved with the bag and hurried away, heading for the auditorium. Matt watched him go and sighed. It would have been churlish to skip it now he'd been spotted.

So that is how, a few hours later, Matt Rutherford found himself sitting in his flashy automobile outside William McKinley High School, willing himself to get out of the car and go inside.

**Kurt**

Kurt let himself into Finn's house, holding the phone to his ear as he closed the door behind him.

"Now you're being ridiculous," he complained. He paused as he listened to the response, frowning at the lint on his jacket sleeve. He brushed it away crossly. "I never read the fine print, you know that! That's why I have you!"

Ray Hudson raced up to her uncle, giving him the sort of bear hug that glued his arms to his sides, a habit she learned from her father. Kurt coughed with exaggeration, until she released him and he swatted at her with his free hand. She laughed and skipped out of reach. She put up her fists, boxed the air and mouthed at her uncle.

"Are you two quarrelling again?"

Kurt shrugged and returned his attention to his husband. "All right, all right, all right; one Armani suit and a pair of Tatsun's loafers, although why you want loafers is beyond me. See you in ten. Love you."

Kurt switched off his phone and grinned ruefully at his niece.

"So, I thought George was coming with you. Isn't he ready yet," she enquired.

"He is not coming. He found the actual invitation and read the bit about there not being enough room for partners, friends or family."

"Whoops," Ray chuckled. "So, he's not too happy about being dragged from New York to Lima for an event he's not invited to? That's unreasonable of him."

"Exactly," Kurt agreed. They laughed and hugged again, this time with Kurt giving the extra squeeze.

"Hey, hey," Ray protested, "I've got to sing later."

Kurt let her go and followed her into the lounge.

"What are you singing?"

"It's a surprise," she teased.

"Oh, sure," said Kurt. "Will Schuster is as original as a MacDonald's French Fry. If 'Don't Stop Believing' isn't on the bill, I'll give you a month's allowance. Where's your dad, anyway?"

Kurt moved to the bottom of the stairs. "Finn," he shouted, "whatever are you doing up there, all the products in the world aren't going to make those wrinkles disappear."

Ray followed him. "He's making a special effort," Ray whispered.

Kurt glanced at her in surprise. "What do you mean?"

Ray led her uncle back to the lounge, talking in a low voice. "Rachel Berry," she said, with some satisfaction. Kurt looked at her quizzically.

"Rachel won't be there," he said slowly, "and anyway, why would he care."

"Stop it, Uncle Kurt. Stop pretending that Dad never cared about Rachel Berry," she stated firmly.

Kurt's eyes widened in surprise and he shot a quick glance at the stairs. He grabbed her arm and took her into the kitchen.

"Okay, so what do you know?"

"Only that they dated in high school and that Dad looked like a ghost when I mentioned the rumour that she would be coming. Why has this been kept from me?"

Kurt sighed. He wasn't sure what to say.

"It wasn't about keeping it from you, honey. It was about not bringing it up around your dad. He's never really gotten over it. Finn and Rachel were… well, let's just say that at the time, everybody thought they'd be together forever. They were even engaged, asinine though that was in high school, and they got as far as the courthouse once. But they were too young and Rachel was so ambitious… he let her go to follow her dreams. I think he always thought they'd get back together, but after she stopped responding to his calls, he had to accept it was over. That's when he met your mom and you know the rest."

"I always knew he met my mother on the rebound and that they were a disaster together. I just never knew any of the details leading up to it. Wow," she said slowly, "poor Dad. Glad to say, I've never really liked Rachel Berry anyway."

"You don't know her," Kurt said sharply. He sighed. "Rachel is great; she just had this desperate drive to perform. It overwhelmed every else, including your father, despite their best intentions. I don't blame Rachel for it, just like I don't blame my brother. Their worlds were too far apart. Anyway, there's no way she'll turn up. She's probably filming in Capri or singing for the Dalai Lama in Tibet or something, not that I'm jealous or anything."

They were silent for a moment as they indulged in their own thoughts, so much so that they both jumped when Finn came into the kitchen.

"What are you two up to?"

"Nothing," Ray said innocently. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah," Finn replied, looking around. "Where's George?"

"I'm pretty sure George is trying to contact his lawyer so he can divorce me," said Kurt with a pout.

"Sure he is. You two will split up when the Cleveland Browns win the Super Bowl," Finn teased, for neither was ever going to happen.

"Well, he's not coming tonight, anyway. I forgot to mention that we weren't supposed to bring partners but Puck let the cat out of the bag."

"Puck? You've seen Puck already?"

"Yeah, in fact, we have to swing by the house to pick him up. He arrived looking like a gorilla covered in grease as I was leaving." Kurt wrinkled his nose in distaste at the memory.

"Okay, well, we'd better get a move on then," said Ray. She ushered the men out of the kitchen, keeping a particularly close eye on her father. If Rachel Berry did turn up, she was going to give her a piece of her mind.

**Puck**

"What do you think, Mrs. H?"

Noah Puckerman stood proudly in his tux, waiting for Carole Hudson-Hummel to compliment his style. Instead, he blinked at her gasp of horror.

"What is that on your head?"

Puck raised his hand to the side of his newly shaved head, leaving the trademark Mohawk that he had borne through high school.

"I thought I'd go all the way, reliving my glory days," he explained.

"Estelle is going to kill you."

Estelle was Puck's wife, also known as "Number Four." Puck had proven to be less adept at keeping wives than he was at keeping jobs, having joined Burt Hummel at the garage since leaving high school. He'd threaten to leave, to make his way out of Lima, every couple of weeks until he married "Number One," a woman twenty years older than he was. That marriage lasted two years which was a year longer than the one with "Number Two." "Number Three" was annulled after a week. Estelle had survived five years as Mrs. Noah Puckerman but Carole was fairly sure she would be gone soon. Puck had taken to spending more and more nights at the Hudson-Hummels to avoid the supposed long drive home after a busy day's work. Carole recognised the return of Puck's restlessness and roving eye, and her heart sank for him.

Despite his waywardness with women, Puck was genuinely content with his life. He loved his kids, all six of them, and he enjoyed his work. Since Finn had taken over running the place as Burt scaled back his working time on the way to retiring, Puck had loved it even more, re-bonding with his former best friend. Puck was fine with Finn being in charge. He was too casual to ever be a boss man. The only thing he had to be careful about was not trying to take advantage of Finn. He learned quickly that the army had given Finn an uncomfortable taste for discipline and order.

"Oh. My. God." George Hutchinson entered the room as Puck was preening. "Did something die on your head?"

Puck laughed. "You're just jealous, New York Boy, as all the hairs you have left couldn't make up an inch of this baby."

Puck was right about the hair count, wrong about the jealousy. George was determined to go bald gracefully and it was certainly true that it did not detract from his good looks.

Puck became more serious as he noticed George's sweater and jeans.

"George, Kurt's right. Schuster will let you in. You should come with us."

"To be honest, I'm grateful for an excuse not to go. It gives me a chance to spend the evening with this beautiful woman," George responded, reaching out to put his arm around Carole's waist and pulling her close.

"I thought guys weren't supposed to like their mother-in-law," she said, giggling.

"That's the joy of being gay," George replied, "you can avoid being a guy when it suits you." He looked up at Puck, who was still looking a little concerned.

"Puck, it's fine, really. I'm not angry at Kurt and I want him to go."

"That's not what it sounded like," insisted Puck. "You seemed to be pretty mad."

"Ah, well, spice is always welcome in a marriage. It keeps things interesting."

Further debate about the relative merits of pretending in marriage was postponed as Kurt, Finn and Ray arrived. Finn was delighted to see Puck's Mohawk again and gave him a high five. Kurt was horrified and Ray just shook her head. George, to ease Puck's concerns, planted a big kiss on his surprised husband with the words, "I forgive you. Go with God and have a good time."

**Rachel Berry**

The last time Rachel Berry–

She was always Rachel Berry these days or Ms. Berry, even when people just used her first name. The rest was always implied.

The last time Rachel Berry was in Lima was in 2016. It was after she'd finally persuaded her dads to move to New York to be closer to her. She'd found them a great apartment in her building on Fifth Avenue and, as her killer blow, told her dads that Nate Berkus had agreed to decorate it. Job done, she turned up out of the blue to spend their last day with them. That day, she vowed never to return.

So it was inexplicable that she was here now. It was inexplicable that she was alone, without minders, without bodyguards, without agents or makeup people or hairdressers or anyone. She felt like somebody on the run. She was driving in the streets of a Lima made vaguely unfamiliar by progress in a car rented in the name of Barbra Summers, a nom de plume she used when she wanted to get away from everything. She finally found the motel and pulled up outside Room 16. She'd prearranged the motel room, paying in advance online so she didn't have to check in personally, just use the code on the lock of the door which would register her arrival. She checked the area. There was no one in sight. She pulled the baseball cap down further over her head and donned her sunglasses. She hurried out of the car, grabbing her travel bag, and made it to the door. She punched in the memorised numbers and breathed a sigh of relief as it opened and allowed her to escape any sharp-eyed observers.

She glanced around the room, reminding herself of what ordinary life used to look like. There was no fully stocked bar, no Jacuzzi, no separate rooms. It was a single room with a double bed against the wall, a couple of bedside tables on each side, a small desk with a mirror above it against another wall and a chest of drawers on which sat a television that was modern in 2010. There was a small alcove with two inner doors, one to the hanging space and one to the tiny shower-only bathroom. She caught herself checking for cockroaches before realising how ridiculous and pampered she was being.

Throwing her bag on the desk and herself on the bed, Rachel contemplated her actions over the last week. It started when her movie wrapped and she skipped the party. That was unlike her; she was usually the belle of the ball on those occasions, throwing in some special treats, like flights to Hawaii or diamond watches and tie pins. This time, it had been different. She had never been more relieved to have finished a project before and she couldn't face putting in an appearance. They all thought she was a bitch anyway, so it wouldn't have dampened anyone else's fun. She had been a bitch, too, for the duration of the shoot, finding fault with everyone and everything. She'd put it down to an indifferent script, lousy locations, boredom with film work, wanting to go back to Broadway, whatever. In her heart though, she knew it wasn't to do with anything external; it was about her. She hadn't had sex in six months since she threw out her last in a long line of lovers and she was definitely starting to miss that. More than that, she just couldn't get excited. She had been offered her pick of Broadway roles and she didn't care. Maybe it was time to retire.

This was her mood when by pure chance she learned about a call from Will Schuster. Rachel had had gatekeepers between her and the rest of the world for so long now that she had forgotten that sometimes people just picked up a phone. The message was already consigned to a pile that she would never normally see and it was only the fluke of her PA having food poisoning and the temp's nervousness that led her to it. Seeing his name brought memories rushing back.

Rachel dismissed the thought of calling him back, until she realised that for the first time in months, she was actually experiencing strong emotions. They weren't all good, that was for sure, but they were something and to a person feeling numb, they were like beacons in the night. So a day after she saw the message, she sat down and called her old glee club director.

Four days later, and here she was, seriously considering gate-crashing her own glee club reunion. She'd told Will that she probably couldn't come, that the paparazzi would ruin it, that she had commitments, but that was not why she thought of herself as a gate-crasher. It was more that she was such an outsider to these people now. Truthfully, she'd always been the outsider, the loser in the gang of losers. Her success didn't change anything. Yet, there was a time in her life when the glee club was her salvation and if ever she needed saving, it was now. Maybe this was a good idea after all. Maybe she was ready to face them now, all of them.

Rachel rose from the bed and went to her bag. She pulled out the dress she'd brought with her, hung it in the wardrobe and disappeared into the bathroom, hoping against hope that the shower would be hot and gushing.

Yes, she was ready to face him now.


	2. Chapter 2: Come Together

**Chapter Two: Come Together**

_He say "I know you, you know me"_

_One thing I can tell you is you got to be free_

_Come together right now over me_

**Will and Emma**

There was something magical about Chicago. If Will needed convincing, New Directions achieving its second Nationals Championship in the same city as the first proved more than enough. As he stood on stage that night, holding aloft the huge trophy with the help of the kids, he felt the magic all around him. It was strong enough to make him think the impossible was possible. It was powerful enough to fuel a crazy idea and to give him the conviction, and powers of persuasion, to carry it though.

Emma was easy. She was the one who had pointed out a while ago that this was his twenty-fifth year of directing the glee club. She had wanted to talk to Principal Mahmood about arranging some sort of tribute to him. Will had declined, saying it was about the kids, not about him. But on that stage, on that night, Will had his epiphany. He could use the win to convince the school to honour the kids, all of them, from first to last. The real problem was how close they were to the end of the school year. There was so little time.

As soon as he got home, he told Emma about his idea, about having a special glee club reunion. She saw the light shining in his eyes and agreed immediately to do whatever she could to help. They went to see Mahmood together. Of course, he said no. The school didn't have the funds, there wasn't time to organise anything, the auditorium was needed for graduation, and fifty other reasons. They beat him down on every one, getting a commitment for a quarter of the prize money and the use of the auditorium on the condition that it was put back in order, ready for graduation, the following day.

The Schusters were pleased with what they got but realistic enough to know that it wasn't enough money, no matter how much they could do themselves or organise through volunteers. So they talked about kicking in some of their own. With three kids, two yet to start college, this needed serious consideration. They went into the teachers lounge to discuss it. Sue looked up sourly on their entry.

"I heard that all the judges this year were deaf," Sue announced.

"Thank you, Sue," Will replied, "I accept your congratulations."

"Will, the day I congratulate you about anything except your boycott of hair products is the day my bones take their rightful place in the Smithsonian. How you managed to win another championship without my help will go down in the annuls of 'What the Fuck'." With that, Sue downed the last of her energy drink, spilling a few drops on the table, to Emma's distaste. She stalked out as Emma pulled out a wet-wipe from an ever-present supply in her bag and proceeded to clean the table.

"I don't think we can do any more, Em," Will said sadly as he took a seat.

Emma paused from her ministrations of the now clean table.

"You know, Will, we have Jonathan's money."

Their oldest son was at Harvard on a full academic scholarship. It was unexpected and a relief on the financial burden of planning for three college educations. They'd kept the money in the college fund, intending to use any left over after the other two graduated to supplement their pensions.

"I'm not sure that would be fair on Max or Judy," Will replied. He paused and then added, "Or on Jonathan."

"Jonathan has made it clear that he doesn't expect any help from us, Will. We should respect his wishes. He doesn't need to work now and yet he is working to put together the money for med school. He'll be fine. I just wish you two…"

"Yeah," Will said, "I know."

Will loved his son and was incredibly proud of his achievements. He just couldn't help but feel that Jonathan, who had a wonderful voice, was wasting his talent. It was something he couldn't hide from his astute son and it had caused not a rift, exactly, but a tension that neither of them had done anything to relieve.

"William, we can do it. The glee kids, which include all of your children and your goddaughter by the way, deserve it and you deserve it. If worse comes to worse, we'll go to my parents."

Will hated Emma's parents and there was little that would force him to ask for their help. He set his jaw, ready to be sensible, a look Emma recognised well. She rushed to interject.

"Don't stop believing, Will."

Will felt the air go out of him as he struggled between deriding an old cliché and laughter. Emma, her eyes shining brightly, looked so pleased with herself that the latter won easily.

"Okay, okay, you win." He reached out across the table, took her hand, and corrected himself. "We win."

Fourteen days of havoc had followed that day Will came home from Chicago with a spring in his step and a big trophy. Before she had a handle on her OCD, times like these would have sent Emma Schuster into catatonia. She had to combine preparations for the reunion with students freaking out over their lives post-high school and with her son Max having a meltdown after a fight with his boyfriend. With some feelings of guilt, she'd passed Max-watch over to his best friend, Ray Hudson, but she needn't have worried. Ray manoeuvred Max into an apology and reconciliation quickly enough.

Emma liked clean work and tracking down all former glee club members was just that. Between everything going on around her, she used every spare moment to be a detective, getting numbers, addresses, leads. Her greatest achievement was getting the number for Rachel Berry. That had taken real skill, if she said so herself. She passed all the details onto Will of for one hundred and sixty-two members less the ones in the current group whose attendance was guaranteed. They'd decided that Will would be the one to contact each of them with one exception. The exception was her job.

She picked up the phone and made the connection.

"Hello?"

"Darling," she cried, "how are you?"

"Hi, Mom. Is any wrong?"

"Does something have to be wrong for me to call you?"

Jonathan paused before he answered. "No, of course not, but you usually call on Sundays so…"

"Okay, so I do have a reason for calling," she laughed. "I want you to come home."

"Mom," he complained, "you know I've only just finished my exams. I go full-time on my job next week and I was going to sleep until then."

"Yes, sweetheart, I know, but this is important."

She explained the situation to her son, listened to his reply and told him she loved him. She put down the phone with a sigh.

Getting the auditorium ready was another nightmare. They potentially were expecting one hundred and twenty people and the stage was too small to accommodate that many. So they had to look at removing some of the seating, a major job.

Will cajoled Finn into lending a hand and a labour force while Emma distracted the principal with year-end reports and artful interceptions. In the meantime, she engaged some of the current glee club members, particularly Max and Ray who were both artistically inclined, to help plan the theme and decorations. The theme was obvious, the decorations were economical but between them all, they'd come up with something that looked pretty decent.

So it was that at 6:30 pm on the day of the reunion, Will and Emma finally stood back and peered out at the results of the two-week effort. Will glanced over to his wife. He licked his finger and used it to remove a smudge of dirt on Emma's cheek. She gasped and then smiled at him.

"You know I love you, Emma Pillsbury," he said softly.

"I do know that, Will Schuster" she said, happy but weary.

"I think I'd love you even more if you had a shower."

Emma punched his arm in retaliation and started running out of the auditorium. Will chased after her, laughing. They had an hour to get home, get changed and get back to receive their guests.

**Mercedes and Matt**

The car stalled, just as she was manoeuvring into a parking position. She was neither in nor out of it and causing an obstruction. She turned the key in the ignition. The engine sputtered and died.

"Girl, somebody up there is trying to tell you something," she muttered to herself as she tried again with similar results. She leaned back, closed her eyes, and wished herself back in LA.

"Can I help?"

Mercedes jumped at the voice at her ear. She hadn't noticed anyone else in the parking lot to witness her humiliation. She looked out the window to see a tall handsome man getting out of the red sports car properly parked in the adjacent spot. She stared at him, unable to form words.

"Mercedes?"

He startled her again, using her name.

"Yes. How? Who?" Mercedes was babbling and she knew it. She took a deep breath and opened the car door. Getting a better look at him, she gasped.

"Matt?"

"Yes! How are things?"

Matt grinned and then added as he looked down at the car, "Well, not great, I can see that."

Mercedes laughed. "It's an old car," she said. "It has its own mind and I think it has decided that I shouldn't be here."

"That's funny. My car is the only reason _I'm_ here. I was sitting here wondering why I let it drive me to Lima. Maybe we should introduce them and they can thrash it out."

Mercedes had forgotten how nice Matt was; truthfully, she'd forgotten Matt. They'd never really connected that first year of glee club and his leaving had brought in Sam, a person she'd thought about a lot over the intervening years.

"Anyway," Matt hurried on, a little embarrassed by the silence, "let me have a try."

Matt got into the driver's seat and tried to start the car. It stubbornly remained dead. He climbed back out, grabbed the wheel and pushed with all his weight to get the car into the spot. He engaged the hand brake and closed the door.

"There," he said, "that will solve the problem for now. As for not going in, I can offer you the alternative of sitting in my car deciding with me a while longer, if you like."

"You know, we're here now. And besides, we want to give them," pausing to gesture at the cars, "a little alone time now that we've played matchmaker."

"You're right," he replied. He held out his arm. "May I have the honour of escorting you inside, Miss Jones?"

"You may, Mr. Rutherford. Let's make an entrance."

**Quinn and Santana**

"This is beyond lame."

Santana's first disappointment had been with the setting. It was so small town and home-made. The auditorium had been turned into a photo gallery of glee club, with pictures of every year's club since 2009. There were balloons everywhere. On the back of the stage, there was a huge screen showing glee club performances that had been recorded on apparatus of varying technological advancement and quality. Across the top, at the front of the stage, was a banner:

Glee Club 2009-2034 – Don't Stop Believing.

It was the first thing she saw as she and Quinn entered the auditorium and she snorted. She made a face and opened her mouth to give an honest and justly harsh critique when Quinn gave a barely perceptible shake of the head to warn her that they were about to have company.

"Quinn Fabray! Santana Lopez! I'm so happy you've come."

Schuster enveloped them both in a hug before standing back to gaze at them.

"Wow, neither of you have aged a day. I can't believe that it's been more than twenty years."

"You're looking good too, Mr. Schu," said Quinn. It was the automatic polite response but she as she said it, she realised she meant it.

Will smiled and shuffled his feet a little uncomfortably. Santana rolled her eyes even though she would have admitted, albeit under torture, that Will was aging gracefully.

"Call me Will," he said.

"No way," said Santana. "You will always be Mr. Schu to us. You should know that."

He laughed and said that she was probably right as Emma joined them and made her own greetings. There followed some small talk before the Schusters were forced back to the door to welcome new arrivals. Quinn and Santana stepped down into the space created by the removal of the seats.

They found the bar on the side. The choice was extremely limited, another cause of disappointment and, as between beer and wine, they had to make do with wine of questionable vintage. After looking around and ascertaining that there was no one they recognised, they snuck up the steps and took to some of the seats in the upper tier of the auditorium.

"This is beyond lame."

Quinn shrugged and asked, "What did you expect?"

"I don't know," Santana said. "I thought it would be a little classy since they had us come in formal wear. Champagne, maybe? Hot crudités? Hotter waitresses? Something!"

"They're all so young," Quinn mused. "Did you realise that other than the teachers, we'd be the oldest ones here?"

Santana looked at her in horror. It hadn't even occurred to her.

"Oh, God. Now I feel like my abuela. Could this evening get any worse?"

"I don't believe it," Quinn spluttered out.

"What? Where?" Santana looked out over the crowd, searching. It didn't her long. "Brittany? Why on earth is she in her Cheerios uniform? And what the hell is that thing attached to her head?"

Brittany was on the lower floor, chatting to someone they couldn't see. She hadn't spotted them. Santana grabbed Quinn's arm and cried urgently, "Duck!"

Quinn shook Santana's hand off her arm and refused to follow Santana as she ducked low in her seat. She gave Santana an amused and pitying look before reminding her that she was the one who got all misty-eyed.

Quinn stood up. Santana shook her head frantically before conceding and slowly rising.

"Let's go say hello," Quinn said, taking her friend's hand and leading her down the stairs.

"Wait," Santana pleaded. "I need to go throw up first."

**Puck **

Puck took his time surveying the crowd. There were a lot of very hot women and even he could appreciate that the same could be said about some of the guys. He slid his hand over the side of his newly shaved head, positively salivating at the prospect of the evening. Estelle would never know. Actually, he thought, she'd know. She just wouldn't care. She'd been busy with her own pool boys lately. Puck was here to enjoy himself as the female magnet he undoubtedly still was.

So it was ironic, if Puck had a grasp of what the word meant, that as he made his way through the crowd, it was a male voice that stopped him in his tracks.

"Puck?"

Puck turned to find himself staring at a tall, handsome black guy who looked vaguely familiar.

"I'd recognise that Mohawk anywhere," the man said.

"Matt? Matt Rutherford? Wow, dude, great to see you!" Puck held up his hand for a high five and Matt obliged.

"You too, man. It's been such a long time."

"Where did you go, bro? I mean, you disappeared on us. Did you know we won the football championship the next year? And the glee club won the year after that. It all came true." It all rushed out of Puck and Matt laughed.

"Yeah, I knew. Guess you didn't need me."

"Aw, man," Puck said, feeling oddly emotional. "It would have been good to have you though."

Puck learned that Matt had come in with Mercedes, who had disappeared to the ladies room. They started to exchange potted life histories. Puck was enjoying himself but when a second male voice said his name behind him, Puck wondered if the Mohawk was sending out a different message these days. He turned and beheld Sam Evans.

"Sam!"

Puck gave Sam a hug which Sam struggled out of with a laugh.

"I can't believe you still have that hair, Puck," Sam said, gazing at it with something akin to awe.

"Only for tonight, bro. Here, let me introduce you two. Sam, this is Matt Rutherford. Matt, this is Sam Evans. He's the guy who replaced you in glee."

While the two men shook hands and exchanged pleasantries, Puck snuck a look around the room. At this rate, it was going to be a night of beers with the boys. On the edge of his vision, he caught sight of two very hot women heading towards them.

"Guys, hot chick alert, heading our way."

Matt and Sam turned to see what Puck was talking about. As the women came closer, Puck recognised one of them.

"Well, well, Quinn Fabray," Puck said appreciatively. "She just can't resist the Puckmeister."

"And she found Mercedes," Matt said.

Neither Puck nor Matt noticed that Sam had turned pale.

"That's Mercedes!" Puck wolf whistled.

**Kurt**

"Is that Blaine?" Being a head taller than every one else, Finn was proving to be adept at spotting faces.

"No!" Kurt was horrified. "He can't be here. Oh no, no, I can't let him see me, I can't, I just can't. Hide me!"

Finn laughed. "What's the problem, bro? You two parted amicably years ago. Besides, I thought you were still friends. I'm pretty sure I remember him at the wedding. He sang."

Kurt stared at his brother as if he were insane.

"It's not that, idiot. You don't get it. I told _him_ I wasn't coming."

Finn laughed even louder and Ray joined in.

"Uncle Kurt, the words 'hoist' and 'petard' are coming to mind," she said, showing off her Shakespeare.

"Pft. You try bringing your significant other to a party where your first love is holding court, and you know what Blaine is like, and see how that goes."

"But George isn't-. Oh, right, he was going to be," she realised. "Oh, poor Kurt."

Finn was finding the whole thing hilarious and Ray couldn't help but start giggling again.

"Are you two just going to stand there like deranged clowns or are you actually going to be helpful," Kurt said crossly, casting anxious glances in the direction Finn had been looking.

Finn straightened his face and said solemnly, "We're going to be helpful."

He put his hands on Kurt's shoulder and led him through the crowd. Kurt quickly realised that they were going in exactly the wrong direction but before he could escape Finn's firm hand, it was too late.

"Kurt! You're here!"

Kurt couldn't say anything because Blaine Anderson grabbed him and pulled his head down for a big kiss.

**Mike and Tina**

Tina had always had her own style but years of hard work and motherhood had eroded her panache somewhat. Tonight, it was different. Tonight, she had rediscovered her retro self in her daughter's wardrobe. It wasn't the '60s, it wasn't Gothic Chic but it was most certainly retro.

Her daughter Ally had been a keen member of the drama club and had the starring role in a play set in the 1950s. Tina had made her costumes for her and the final act dress was a real stunner. It was a boned strapless number in black taffeta and lace, of cocktail length with a waspish waist and a full skirt. There was one thin jewelled belt at the tiny waist and a second under the bust line. Tina had put her hair up and looked like she had just stepped out of an Audrey Hepburn movie. She was glorious.

At least Mike thought so and judging by the glances she was getting, he wasn't the only one. He found himself being a little more possessive than usual, holding her a little closer, as he guided them towards the bar. On their way, they waved at Finn and Kurt and spotted Sam and Puck, noting where they were for later.

"What would you like to drink," Mike asked as they approached the bar. Tina, not usually a drinker, was feeling a little reckless and asked for wine. Mike raised his eyebrows but didn't demur. He got himself a beer and made to lead them back to their friends. She didn't move.

"What is it?" Mike could see that she was staring at something he couldn't see.

"I think Artie's here too," Tina said.

"Yeah? You've seen him?"

"No," she said, puzzled, "but there's a girl here with a proper camera and I know Artie sometimes does documentaries."

Tina turned to her husband and said, "Let's go find him."

She took his hand and he was forced to let himself be led instead.

**Artie**

Artie had pretty much given up on telling Gail where to put the camera. The room was crowded and trying to make his way through it with the wheelchair was proving to be a harder task than he was used to. Besides, she seemed to prefer being given a free hand and while that would usually have driven him crazy – he liked being in control – he was impressed enough with her work to let her have her head. Right now, she seemed to be filming more of him than anything else. He'd come to terms with the realisation that nothing was really going to come of this trip. He was unlikely to be able to sell a programme about a high school glee club reunion and just regretted the indigestion he was going to suffer back in the office paying the bills for it.

Artie sighed and attempted to roll towards a safe corner. He made two turns of the wheel when he can face to stomach with a Cheerio.

"Hey, Artie."

"Oh, hey Brittany." He looked up at her, bemused. "Brittany, why is there a horn on your head?"

"I'm a unicorn tonight. Can't you tell?"

"Uh, right. Ooookay." It made as much sense as anything else Brittany did or said so Artie let it drop.

"Good crowd tonight. Who's here from our time," he asked, changing the subject.

"What? Oh, I don't know, I haven't checked. Look Artie, there's no way Rachel Berry is going to turn up so I've arranged for you to interview Sue Sylvester."

"What? No!" Artie backed the chair away from Brittany in horror at the thought of having to have a one-to-one with Sue.

"Artie! Don't say that! You'll only prove her right."

"What do you mean 'prove her right.' What are you talking about?"

Brittany jumped onto Artie's lap, forcing him to frantically apply the brake before they both tumbled over. She put her arms around her neck and explained confidentially, "She said that a local PBS station was too small to be doing a piece on the greatest cheerleading coach the world had ever seen. She said that if she had just won ten times, then maybe, but after twentieth time, she reckons it will be Fox who comes knocking."

Artie had always found Brittany beguiling and he felt himself slipping into acquiescence. After all, there wasn't any else going on. Maybe a feature on Sue, painful though it might be, would make sense. He craned his neck to see if Gail was behind him. She was but he was startled to see someone else approaching. It was Tina, but a Tina he hadn't seen in a long time.

As Artie was watching Tina dragging Mike towards him, Brittany was experiencing her own shock as she recognised a figure approaching them from another direction. It was Santana. Brittany leaped out of the chair, nearly sending Artie, who was leaning back, flying again.

**Will and Emma**

"Jonathan!"

Will started at his wife's joyous cry. He turned to see his son being grasped tightly in Emma's arms. Will waited until she'd let him go before saying softly, "It's good to see you son." He went to give Jonathan a hug just as his son stepped away from his mother, leading to an almost comical lack of contact.

"Hey, Dad." Jonathan's compensatory pat on Will's shoulder was a poor substitute. Jonathan went on, "Congratulations."

"Thanks, son. I'm really glad you came. I hoped you'd want to, to catch up with the kids from your time. Almost all of them are here, you know."

Will knew from Jonathan's sheepish face that he wasn't there because he wanted to be. Emma had obviously used guilt to get him to come and it cut Will to the core, although it didn't surprise him.

"So," Jonathan said, "I'd best go find some of the old gang."

"Ray's here," Emma said, noticing his blush with satisfaction. "I know she's looking forward to saying hi."

"Okay. I'll, uh, I'll see you later than." He started to walk away.

"If Max is drinking, stop him," she called after him. With that, Emma returned to her door duties.

Will lingered to watch his son as he headed down into the lower area. He saw him hurry over to Ray and Finn. "Tomorrow," Will said to himself, "tomorrow, we'll sit down and work it out. I love him, I'm proud of him, he's entitled to his own life and this is stupid."

He heard Emma gasp behind him. Knowing that he had no more children from whom he'd managed to estrange himself, Will turned to see what had caused her reaction. He couldn't believe his eyes.

"Rachel!"

**Finn**

He knew. It wasn't the instant silence in the crowded room. It wasn't the shocked faces before him, staring beyond him. Those faces blurred until all he could register were gaping mouths. It wasn't even Ray, reaching for and clutching his arm. It was the chill that ran up his spine and the sudden nausea in the pit of his stomach that almost made him retch. He knew. He didn't have to turn around. He knew she was there.

He took a deep breath and then another. He closed his eyes and counted. One; two; three; all the way up to ten, forcing himself to inhale and exhale at a steady pace. Only then could he slowly, very slowly, turn around.


	3. Chapter 3: Our Last Summer

**Chapter Three: Our Last Summer**

_We had our chance_

_It was a fine and true romance_

_I can still recall our last summer_

_I still see it all_

_Walks along the Seine, laughing in the rain_

_Our last summer_

_Memories that remain_

**Rachel **

They'd spent every day of their last summer together. Not every moment of every day, for Finn was working for Burt and Rachel had ramped up her lessons, but every moment they could. They developed a routine. While Finn fixed cars in the morning, Rachel scrutinized the internet, researching the teachers and students, past and present, of NYADA. She was preparing a dossier on each teacher with their résumés and their favourite musicals and songs. She was well on the way to knowing all the details by heart. She worked on all the songs that she felt would most impress them. She also joined the chat forum for NYADA students, learning what she could about life at the school and about her competitors – through their comments, their Facebooks, their Twitters – such as what their weaknesses were, the songs they wouldn't tackle or the fears they experienced. She memorized that information too. It was amazing how much people gave away to strangers. Thankfully, performers loved attention. After her first week of research, it dawned on Rachel that she too had exposed a lot about herself online and that others could easily discover her insecurities. She spent the next two days carefully editing her own internet presence, deleting negative comments and erasing anything that would provide sticks with which she could be beaten. Rachel was determined to have an edge.

At noon, she stopped and went to the kitchen. She turned her creative talents to creating mouth-watering meatless sandwiches that her meat-eating lover had learned to appreciate. She could cope with handling some things she wouldn't eat herself, but she drew the line at dead animals. Thirty minutes later, she would drive to Burt's garage and have lunch with Finn. On days when the weather was wet or cold, they would go to a bench in the corner of the garage, one partially screened from the bulk of the working space. Finn would lift Rachel onto the bench and they would eat and whisper and kiss and cuddle. If the weather was nice, they'd walk hand-in-hand to the park, find a secluded spot, enjoy their lunch, and enjoy each other. On nice days, Finn was frequently late back from lunch.

**Rachel and Finn**

It was a beautiful day. Finn rolled away onto his back, his long legs clearing the bottom of the blanket by a foot and a half. They were panting but at least they were still fully clothed. For various domestic reasons, they hadn't been able to make love in a week and lust was threatening to make them reckless. They lay quietly for a moment, listening to the sounds of children playing and dogs barking beyond the bushes where they had laid their picnic.

Rachel rolled onto her side, raised up on her elbow and bathed in the sight of the love of her life. His eyes were closed and his breathing was starting to slow but looking down told Rachel that he was straining hard against his jeans. He sensed her stare and opened his eyes. She paused, wanting him to know what she was observing, before languorously returning her eyes to his face.

"Rachel, we can't," he groaned. "Not here."

Rachel's only answer was to lean over him and take his far hand. She pulled it up to her face, forcing his hand onto her cheek and him onto his side. Then, with her hand over his, she pushed his hand down slowly until reaching her breast. Finn tried not to respond but when he felt the hard nipple under his hand, he was beaten. He started to move his hand independently, making small circles with his palm against the nub. Rachel's mouth opened and let out a contented sigh, almost a purr. Finn moved to the other breast to give it equal attention, Rachel's hand still resting against his.

Rachel glanced down the length of Finn's body again and was pleased with what she saw. She increased the pressure on Finn's hand before forcing it to travel further down. She took their hands over her long summer skirt to her bare leg before bringing their hands up again under the skirt.

"Oh, God," Finn moaned.

Her panties were wet. Rachel moved her hand to grip Finn's wrist and pressed her body down on his fingers, rocking slightly back and forth. Finn gritted his teeth and fought the urge to sweep the fabric aside and plunge into her.

"We have to stop," he pleaded, despite his fingers developing minds of their own and gently rubbing against the damp lace. Rachel looked down at him sadly, let go of his wrist and shook her head. Abruptly, she stood up. Finn was as confused as hell but relieved that he could stop fighting against his intense desire to give in.

Finn rolled back onto his back and watched Rachel as she peered out over the bushes. After a moment or so, she returned her attention to the hamper she'd brought and the remains of their lunch. Finn wondered if he could stand up yet without embarrassment to help her pack up when Rachel did something that shocked him to the core.

She slid her panties down her legs, stepped out of them and sank back down onto the blanket.

Finn closed his eyes and returned to the battle between his head and his loins. They flew open again when he felt her hand at his jeans and before he could do anything to stop her, or so he told himself, she'd slid down the zipper. Finn often travelled commando in the summer and today was no exception. His penis sprang out of its confinement and Rachel quickly moved to kneel over him. She held him down with her hands on his chest and positioned herself over him. Slowly, she descended and Finn's mind turned to mush.

Taking Finn fully inside, Rachel paused a moment to make sure that her skirt billowed around her. She was being irresponsible, she knew, but at least if anyone did come across them, it could just look like she was sitting on top of him innocently. There was nothing innocent however about the way she started moving. Rising and falling, at first gently, Rachel made small circles with her pelvis. Finn, driven beyond reason, shot up into a sitting position, grabbed her ass through her skirt and increased the pace. He lowered his head to her mouth and they kissed hard, their tongues frantically dancing. Biting back cries of pleasure, they galloped on until first Rachel and then Finn melted in orgasm and release. They remained in position, with Finn still inside her, as they regained their breath.

That was when the soccer ball flew past, missing their heads by an inch. They both stared at it where it landed, too surprised to do anything else. When the two boys, aged about twelve, burst through the bushes, they were shocked into rigidity.

"Have you seen our ball," asked one boy.

"There it is," said the other.

One of the boys ran over and picked up the ball. The other glanced at Finn and Rachel. Rachel recognised the boys as children of her neighbours.

"Hi Rachel. What'cha doin'?"

"Having a picnic," she replied smoothly. "If you're hungry, there's a bag of potato chips we haven't opened. It's in the hamper there."

The boys were thrilled at the offer and spotted the bag which they grabbed. Unfortunately, they also spotted Rachel's discarded panties.

"What's that?"

One of the boys reached out to pick them up but Rachel was quicker and leaned over to snatch them up.

"Napkin," she said.

The boys didn't look convinced and Rachel looked at Finn, a wicked gleam in her eye. She kept them bunched in her hand, pulling out a little of the fabric and deliberately and lovingly wiped Finn's mouth. Inside, she could feel that Finn's reaction to this intimacy was powerful.

"See," she said. "Anyway, you two should go and finish your game."

"Do you wanna play ball with us?"

"It's okay," she said. "I have my own balls to play with."

Finn almost choked.

That day, Finn was so late back from lunch that Burt yelled at him.

**Rachel**

After lunch, Rachel would leave Finn to his work and race to her vocal coach for two hours a day. On Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, she'd followed it with two hours of acting lessons from Cooper Anderson's retired drama teacher – although Rachel was surprised to find that Cooper and she had very different takes on what they were being taught by this competent man – and on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, it was two hours with the self-titled and flamboyant dance guru, Dame Sophia, or as Finn called her, the mad woman.

Sunday mornings were their individual alone time. Rachel would save all her intensive grooming routines for then and luxuriate. Finn had put together a soccer team made up of Mike, Puck, Blaine, and some of the mechanics at the garage to play in an informal league in the park. Sunday lunch would alternate between dinner with Rachel's dads and dinner at the home of the Hudson-Hummels. Sunday afternoons were usually spent watching movies or by Rachel helping Finn to track down what he could about his father. Frequently, this meant spending time with Carole, learning every thing she knew about what happened to him and who his friends were. Rachel's honed computer search skills turned up some addresses and she helped Finn compose letters to his dad's former colleagues, as well as letters to the military authorities. So far, they hadn't had any responses but Rachel worked hard to keep Finn from getting down about it, including allowing him to pick up action movies instead of the musicals she normally insisted upon.

Every night of the week was theirs too. When they were lucky, Rachel's dads or the Hudson-Hummels were away and they could comfortably spend their nights in each other's arms. When they weren't lucky, well, they still would spend time in each other's arms, just not as comfortably. Rachel had developed a permanent bruise from the shift stick in Finn's car.

The only sour note in the whole summer was the thought of it being over. Finn would be leaving Lima for Fort Benning before she went to New York and Rachel could not get the countdown clock out of her head. Every day, it loomed the moment she woke up. Thirty-five days, thirty-four days, thirty three-days. They hadn't really talked about what was going to happen then. Rachel wasn't convinced that she had to surrender anything, although she accepted that Finn, supported by Kurt and her dads, was right about her not deferring NYADA. They'd work something out. Of that she was certain. What was 989 miles to a love that was going to last forever?

**Finn**

Finn knew about the countdown clock in Rachel's head because she told him and because it mirrored his own. The only difference was that his was real. He'd marked the calendar that hung on his bedroom wall. This Sunday, the number 15 was written on the calendar. It was circled. Today, he would surprise Rachel.

There was only one reason that Finn had spent the summer working full-time, six days a week, for Burt. He didn't need the money for Fort Benning. He needed the money to take Rachel somewhere special, somewhere they could remember for the rest of their lives. When he first had the idea, he couldn't decide where that would be. The first choice would have been New York but that was out of the question now. Rachel would be there soon enough and he wanted their vacation to be at a place that could be just for them, without reminders of what was parting them. He was stumped until he talked to Kurt about it. Kurt came through brilliantly, if expensively but also helped talk Burt and Rachel's dads into adding to the kitty. Later today, Rachel and Finn would fly away and leave the world behind for fourteen days. He was packed and ready to go, checking for the third time that the tickets and their passports were in the front pocket of his bag. He reached behind him and grabbed Rachel's pink case. Hiram and LeRoy had loved the idea and joined the conspiracy, packing for the trip with the clothes they thought she'd want with her. When Rachel complained about not being able to find a skirt she wanted to wear the morning before, Hiram had had to apologize for being behind with the laundry.

Finn loaded the car with the luggage. Rachel and her dads were due any minute to have lunch with them and Finn didn't want her to see the bags until he was ready. He cut it fine because as he closed up the car, the Berrys were just pulling up.

Rachel raced out of the car and into his arms. The senior Berrys pretended not to notice the tonsil hockey going on and headed for the house. Burt welcomed them at the door, ushering them inside as Rachel and Finn followed, hand-in-hand. Once inside, Rachel headed to the kitchen to join Carole and to check on the menu.

Burt approached and whispered to Finn, "Everything ready?"

Finn replied, "Yep, we're good to go. Kurt and Blaine are going to pick up the car from airport later." He looked over at his brother. "Thank you."

"I actually get to have the house to myself for a week while the old ones are in DC. You should go away more often."

They stopped talking when Rachel came out of the kitchen, looking puzzled. She drew Finn aside, frowning.

"What's the matter, babe?"

"Finn, your mom knows that she invited my dads for lunch today, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, there are only five places set at the table. And another thing; there's a chicken or something in the oven," she said, shuddering "but she's got all the vegetables roasting with it in the same pan. I can't eat that!"

"Oh. That's not good. Maybe we should eat out."

"Finn, we can't," Rachel moaned and then, after a pause, hopefully, "Can we?"

Finn pulled her back into the room as Carole entered from the kitchen.

"Folks, Rachel is demanding a different cuisine."

Rachel gasped in horror. "No, no, I'm not! Finn!"

Rachel couldn't understand why everyone was grinning from ear to ear.

"So," Finn continued, "we're going to go find a good French restaurant." Finn turned to Rachel. "In Paris."

Rachel's mouth fell open.

"And then," he said triumphantly, "after a week there, we're going to take in some theatre in London."

Rachel squealed. Kurt, who couldn't help himself, jumped up and down, clapped and squealed, all at the same time.

**Finn and Rachel**

Paris had been everything that Finn had hoped for. They spent their days exploring the city and their nights exploring each other. Rachel had punished him all night after the day the spent at the Louvre for telling her that she looked like the Mona Lisa, a punishment he would have gladly endured forever. After Paris, they had boarded the train to London. Finn was fascinated that they were travelling under the sea but Rachel felt a little claustrophobic so he held her close and soothed her fears away. In London, they avoided most of the tourist traps, preferring to walk in the parks or chill out in the pubs, watching the activity flowing by. Rachel discovered the location of Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts and insisted they go have a look. From there they walked down to the British Museum and gazed at treasures beyond counting. Their evenings in London were dedicated to the theatres in the West End and once, Covent Garden. Rachel was in ecstasy.

Finn was lying naked on the bed in their room at the small bed and breakfast he'd booked, rubbing his hand slowly over his abdomen. In Paris they'd eaten well and in London, the beer was delicious. He wasn't worried about the faint bulge he could feel. Fort Benning would take care of that for sure. Rachel was in the bathroom and Finn turned his thoughts to the next day. They would be flying home tomorrow and the day after that, he would be in Georgia. Realistically, this was it, their last night together for however long fate decreed, maybe the rest of their lives. Finn felt himself welling up as Rachel opened the door. He blinked away the unshed tears before looking up at her. He knew in an instant that she had been thinking the same thing.

"Oh, Finn," she cried, running into his arms.

He held her tight, stroking her hair, rubbing her back and kissing the top of her head.

"It's been so wonderful. I don't want to go home. Can't we stay here? Forever?"

"I don't think that's a good idea," he said lightly. "You're already starting to sound British and you smell of garlic."

Rachel made a sound in his chest that was halfway between a sob and a laugh. She raised her head and looked into his eyes, stroking his cheek. She knew what he was feeling but she was grateful that he was trying to stay cool. She didn't want their last night to be a cry-fest.

Finn looked down and knew that he would never love anyone the way he loved this girl. She was so extraordinary, so beautiful, and so intoxicating. He'd understood for a long time that he wasn't good enough for her but tonight, she was his. He bent down and kissed her open mouth gently, lingering on her lips, refusing the invitation when her tongue darted into his mouth. He pulled back and stared at her lips a moment before returning to them, nibbling first the bottom and then the top lip. She was frantically trying to engage, but he savoured just tasting her. His tongue snaked along the line of her lip and she started to moan, wanting to hurry. Tonight wasn't for hurrying though so he pulled back again.

He stared into her eyes, dark with passion. He made a vow.

"I will love you forever, Rachel Berry."

He plunged down and kissed her hard, his tongue invading her mouth and finding hers. She pushed with equal force and when they finally slowed, they were breathing hard. Finn's hand continued to rub her back but now he pressed a little harder so that her nightie rode up with his hand. He gathered the material in a fist and released her long enough to slide the delicate material over her head. He moved his hands to the sides of her arms and pushed her gently down onto the bed.

He kissed again, gently this time, on the corner of her lips and then let his mouth and tongue drag down to her neck. She wrapped her hand in his hair, stroking and pumping her fingers through the silky strands. He continued the trail down to her shoulder, resting at last on the closest breast. He nipped her, causing her to yelp, before enveloping much of her breast in his mouth, circling the nipple with his tongue. He sucked until the rose bud was as hard as a bullet before turning his attention to its neglected twin. He let his hand take over from his mouth in trailing down her body, stopping on her belly where his thumb stroked her navel.

Rachel was feeling wild but she sensed that he wanted to set the pace so she threw her arms behind her head and closed her eyes, wallowing in the heat. She felt his lips leave her breast and continue down to take over from his thumb. As he plunged his tongue into her belly button, Rachel felt a clench in her loins that nearly sent her into orgasm on its own. Finn's hand was on her thigh, stroking it gently, working her legs apart. When he touched her centre, Rachel shuddered and a moan strangled in her throat as she came. Finn pulled away to let her recover and then returned his mouth to her belly. He kissed her burning skin and continued down, until he felt the tickle of her pubic hair. He paused and looked up at her face, thrown back, mouth open. It was the most magnificent thing he had ever seen. She opened her eyes and looked down at him, saw him poised above her.

"Finn."

Finn watched her as he slid his hands under her ass and lifted her. Her eyes went black in anticipation. He plunged his tongue into her, going as deep as he could. She cried out in pleasure as he swirled his tongue along the sensitive passage. He withdrew and licked along her lips, reaching her clit. He sucked at it, circled it with his tongue and very gently held it between her teeth. Rachel was writhing and when his tongue entered her again, she enjoyed a second orgasm. Finn didn't pull away this time – he drank it in. When she stopped shuddering, she reached down for him, pulling him towards her mouth, wanting to taste herself through him. They kissed long and deep. Rachel let her hand trail down his body, finding the target firm and throbbing. She stroked him along the length and squeezed gently.

"I need you in me. Now," she croaked out.

Finn obliged. Finn continued obliging until hours later when they fell asleep, exhausted.

**Finn **

He'd said his goodbyes to his friends and family at home. He knew he was going to be an emotional wreck and there was only so much he could take at a time. Rachel had picked him up and taken him to the station. He'd asked her to come earlier than was needed. He wanted to talk to her. He knew she still didn't really understand what was happening. He had to get her to accept it, for her own sake.

Rachel was silent during the drive. She pulled up at the station, turned off the engine and stared straight ahead. She'd been crying; he knew that. It started as their plane came in to land and he suspected it hadn't stopped. Finn looked out the window, searching for words. He wasn't sure if it was a good or a bad thing that they were in the same setting as last time.

"Rachel, I-"

"No," she said emphatically, "no, not here."

Rachel wrenched open the door and bolted out of the car. Finn got out more slowly, walking around to close the driver's door. He watched her stride away from him, heading for a small gazebo that was on the lawn in front of the station. He took a couple of deep breaths and followed.

She heard him enter the gazebo. She didn't turn to face him.

"I don't understand why you can't come to New York," she said quietly.

"Because other than you, there's nothing for me there," he replied, just as quietly.

"And I'm not enough?"

Finn nearly broke at the sob that followed. He stepped behind her and encircled her in his arms.

"You are everything to me," he said, "but I can't be everything to you. You're too talented to be tied to someone who could hold you back. I love you more than life itself but you're Rachel Berry. Loving you means loving everything about you, including your talent and your destiny."

She allowed him to turn her around so they could look at each other. Tears were streaming down her face.

"You're a star, Rachel. It's what you were born to be. Your drive will get you there but I stood by and watched that drive weaken and fragment all because of me. I was hurting you when I thought I was loving you. It took me a while to work it out but when I realised what was happening, I knew that if I really loved you, I had to let you go."

Rachel opened her mouth to protest but Finn raced on.

"It shouldn't have taken me that long to work it out. I need to grow up, Rachel, I need to-"

Finn paused, and then rolled his eyes as it came to him.

"I'm sorry to say it again but damn it, I _need_ to become a man. It's lots of little lessons and it comes with time and experience. If my experience is to be frustrated and bitter in New York because I can't help you or support you and I'm just riding on your coattails, then what sort of man would I become? Not one worthy of Rachel Berry, that's for sure."

He stared down at her, hoping that this time he'd found the right words. At least she seemed to be considering them. He thought of one more thing he needed to tell her.

"Rachel, I knew the moment I heard you sing that you were special. You need to convince the rest of the world and to do that, you have to be focused and you have to be free to do what you need to do. You need people around you who can help you get there but most of all, you need yourself. Before you and I became us, you always had the confidence to believe you could do this alone. Please don't let our legacy be that you've lost that confidence because without it guiding you, you won't make it and that would kill both of us."

Rachel nodded, beginning to understand what he was trying to say. She still wasn't convinced that it meant the end.

"Okay," she said, exhaling slowly. "I understand and you might even be right about it all. You are right about me needing to go to NYADA now and you are right about needing to find your own way. Where I think you're wrong is in thinking we have say goodbye, to give up on a long-distance relationship, part without…without anything. I can call Kurt and get advice. I can't call you? How does that make sense?"

"It makes sense for a while because we are both this close," he said, holding up his thumb and forefinger, barely touching, "to losing our resolve. I can't look at you without wanting to take you in my arms or make you my wife or see you with our child."

Tears were streaming down his face now and he choked, unable to go on. Rachel moved into him and put her arms around him, sharing the cost of trying to do the right thing. They stood together, entwined, until Finn found his voice again. He put his hands on her shoulders to hold her away a little.

"Let's make a deal. Give it six months. In six months, I'll call you, so long as I can anyway. I don't know what rules the army has about stuff like that. I'll call or I'll write and we'll see how it goes. Okay?"

"Okay," she said brokenly. "Six months." She didn't have the will to push him further, seeing how it was ripping him apart. She couldn't stop her tears from flowing but she could help him get through this. She resolved in her own mind that whatever happened, in six months she was going to be with Finn Hudson again.

Finn took her by the hand and they went back to the car. Finn got his luggage out and they walked up to the station. Rachel started to panic, threatening to protest when they got to the door of the train. Finn silenced her with a long, deep kiss before turning away and boarding.


	4. Chapter 4: It's Too Late

**Chapter Four: It's Too Late**

_There'll be good times again for me and you_

_But we just can't stay together, don't you feel it, too_

_Still I'm glad for what we had and how I once loved you_

_But it's too late, baby, now it's too late_

_Though we really did try to make it_

**Rachel**

"Rachel!"

Rachel was aware that Will was there, that he hugged her and was talking rapidly and excitedly. She had no idea what he was saying, even though his voice was the only sound in a room filled with people. Rachel had made her entrance, her stage fright quelled, with her courage in hand. It wasn't that she'd forgotten how tall he was, it was that she hadn't anticipated that he would be the first thing she would see, towering over the crowd. She wasn't ready after all and every protection she'd built within herself to cope with this night drained away.

She tried to look at Will. His face had changed. He wasn't smiling. He looked concerned. He was still holding her. She was grateful because her head was spinning and she couldn't have stayed standing on her own. She saw Emma approach him and whisper in his ear. He nodded and looked down at her.

"Rachel," Will said gently, "I'm going to take you to my office. Okay?"

Rachel may have nodded. She wasn't sure but she offered no objection when Will put his arm around her shoulders and led her out of the auditorium. Rachel didn't notice the cacophony that erupted behind her.

**Quinn and Sam**

"She looked terrified," Quinn said, staring at the space where Rachel and Will had stood a moment before.

"Yeah, she did," Sam agreed. "I hope she comes back though. Ellie will kill me if I don't get an autograph although I'm really surprised she turned up. I always imagine her lounging on some yacht, you know?"

"Yachts are overrated," mused Quinn, remembering tedious times spent with the Westersons.

"That sounds like someone who knows," responded Sam, a little enviously.

Quinn shook her head clear of bad memories and turned her attention to Sam. He was stockier than she remembered, but by no means fat. It was more like he'd added muscles to his muscles. His thick hair was lighter, making the transition to paleness that happens with blondes and his face was deeply etched with lines. He was rugged, that was the word she was looking for.

"How are you, Sam? What are you doing now?"

"Good," he said, with a thicker accent than he used to have. "I joined my dad working construction in Nashville after I graduated from here. It started with me just doing it to get the money together for college, but I really liked the work, you know. Then I joined this country group and met my wife. Goodbye college, hello diapers," he laughed. "We still perform. It's not lucrative, so I'm still in construction," he said, showing off his calloused hands, "but it is a lot of fun. We get to play all over the state. We even managed to get on the Opry a couple of times."

"Wow, that's pretty impressive," Quinn said.

"I love it," he replied. "We got the boys involved too and at one point were being called Tennessee's own Osmonds! I had to look up who they were."

Quinn laughed at the idea of Sam as a Mormon patriarch.

"Funnily enough," Sam continued, "although we mostly do country, one of our most popular covers is me and Ellie doing 'Lucky.' Remember that?"

"I do," she said. "We were pretty good."

"I found out later that Rachel and Finn rigged that vote, but yeah, we were pretty good."

Quinn stared at him, vaguely offended, and then laughed.

"Of course they did. Oh my, do you remember that horrible song they did? Rachel dressed as a nun and Finn with a dog collar?"

"I do," he laughed, "although I love that song. It was the image that ruined it. Deliberately chosen."

"How did you find that out," she asked curiously.

"Ah, that was Finn. He was feeling really guilty about stealing you away and about thinking I was trying to do the same to him, so he took me out to some bar one night, where they were known to be careless about checking ages. He confessed over a beer. He was pretty down that night, actually, really confused and we talked about stuff." Sam glanced over at Mercedes who was avoiding his eye as she talked to Matt and Puck. "It wasn't long before he split up with you come to think of it."

"That second time was such a mistake. I should've stuck with you."

"Naw," he said. "We were never that well-suited. You were the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen in my life but you were always too high class for me. My bad impressions would have driven you crazy in the end."

"True," Quinn said unthinkingly. On seeing Sam's reaction, she hurriedly adding, "I mean… I'm sorry, that was mean."

"I'm crushed that you thought my impressions were bad!"

She could see he was teasing her and she laughed, giving him a hug.

"So, what about you," he asked. "You went to Yale. You find yachts a bore. Are you amongst the idle rich now?"

Quinn hesitated. A long time ago, when she was Quinn Fabray, appearances meant a lot to her, so much so that she'd actively sweep inconvenient truths under the carpet. Appearances still did matter. It's why she didn't walk out on her marriage as soon as she knew about her husband's affair. It's why people in the Hamptons just saw a cool, rich philanthropist who dressed well. So she was tempted to edit her history to something more palatable than giving up on her own ambitions to marry a rich guy who dumped her for a waitress older than she was or that she was leading a life that looked good but was empty. Santana knew it all, of course, but for everyone else, she carefully kept up the mask and she never looked back. However, there was something about being here, about reliving her past, about remembering how she'd cheated on him that made her want be honest with Sam.

And so she was. Quinn was surprised to find the experience liberating.

**Santana and Brittany**

When Rachel appeared and just as quickly disappeared, Santana was caught in a bear hug that threatened to deprive her of consciousness. Her hands started flapping uselessly against Brittany's back. Brittany, eyes were squeezed tightly shut as she clenched her old lover, was enjoying the feel of Santana's body too much to notice. It was the silence that made her break her hold and she looked at Santana curiously just as everyone started talking again.

"What happened," she asked?

"Nothing, just Rachel Berry making it all about Rachel Berry again," said Santana breathlessly, frantically trying to smooth out the creases in her dress.

"Rachel? Rachel's here?"

Brittany looked devastated. Santana glanced at her suspiciously.

"I know I always thought she was evil incarnate dressed like a four-year old, but I always thought you kind of liked her," Santana said.

Brittany, as beautiful as she remembered, was chewing her lip and Santana was uncomfortably aware of the non-sisterly feelings that were amassing in the pit of her stomach.

"Rachel's okay," Brittany said. "She's famous, you know."

"Yes, I know" Santana snorted, "New York does have its fair share of news outlets and the appalling taste of the American public is regularly pushed down my throat. But why are you so worried?"

"Sue."

For most, that answer would be as confusing as any she could have given but it certainly enlightened Santana on the seriousness of the matter to her old girlfriend. She pulled Brittany through the crowd, ran up to the upper seats, sat her down and turned to her.

"Okay," she demanded, "what's going on? And why, in God's name, are you wearing a unicorn horn on your head?"

"I thought it would make me look wise on the TV," Brittany explained.

Santana burst out laughing.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Santana managed to spit out between chuckles, "but I'd forgotten how much I love you and your lunacy."

"You shouldn't have broken up with me, then," responded Brittany without a hint of rancour.

"You cheated on me with that football player," Santana protested.

"That wasn't cheating! The plumbing's different. You taught me that!"

It was an old debate. While Santana had to admit the truth of providing Brittany with that rationale, and knew it served her right, at heart she had never been convinced that Brittany was as head-in-heels in love with her as she was with Brittany. Between finding out about the football player in Brittany's (second) senior year and the difficulties of trying to maintain a long-distance relationship with someone whose intellect ranged from A to A, they'd drifted apart and officially parted before the end of Santana's freshman year at college. Santana had never quite lost the bitterness that came with realising that Brittany had taken the end of their relationship in her stride.

Santana pushed those thoughts away and returned to trying to ascertain the reason for Brittany's state of consternation.

"So, Sue," Santana probed. "What has Rachel got to do with Sue and what does it have to do with you?"

"I wanted to Sue to be here. She helped us win Nationals so she had to be here, otherwise it wouldn't be perfect," said Brittany. She went on to explain how she'd persuaded Sue to attend.

"Sue's going to kill me," Brittany concluded.

"Right," said Santana. "So Rachel Berry, as usual, ruins everything."

Both women sat back, thinking. Below them, the crowd was still buzzing about Rachel. Santana searched the faces, picking out Finn, Kurt and a lot of the other members of the original New Directions. She was strangely pleased to see how many of them were there and, though she would never have admitted it, glad she came. The one face she didn't see was Sue's.

"So where's Sue now," she asked.

"Having her roots done," Brittany replied. "She'll be here at nine, that's when the performance is. Everybody will tell her that Rachel's here, so we can't hide it."

"_We_?"

Brittany just looked at her with big, sad eyes. Santana sighed.

"Okay, we," she conceded. She thought a little longer.

"Wait. So it's not so much that Rachel's here, it's that we want Artie to film Sue instead of her, right?"

"Right," Brittany agreed, thinking hard. "So all we have to do is make sure that Rachel won't agree to be filmed. I know!"

Santana nearly jumped at Brittany's shout of excitement.

"What?"

"I'll stay with Artie and you find Rachel," she said, "and we'll text each other so we can keep them apart. It'll be easy, Artie likes me."

Santana was sceptical in response, "And Rachel likes me? She's hated me since I poked her boyfriend. Besides, she's gone AWOL."

"Oh, you don't have to do anything unless she comes back. And she may not love you, but Rachel wants everyone to like her, so…"

Santana thought on that and realised that Brittany was right.

"Brittany," Santana asked, "how is it that sometimes you can be so smart?"

With a wide smile, Brittany pointed to the unicorn horn.

**Tina and Artie**

Being in the grip of a mutual hug, one that surprised Artie with its enthusiasm and Tina's whispered "Flirt with me" command, both Tina and Artie missed Rachel. Mike didn't and nor did Gail whose sixth sense made her pan from Artie and Tina to Rachel and Will the moment the room fell silent. Once they left, she returned the camera, first to Mike and then to his wife who was looking around in confusion.

"Rachel Berry's here," said Mike quietly.

Artie looked up at him in surprise. "You're kidding me!"

"Well, she was here. Mr. Schu's taken her off somewhere."

"I can't believe she came," Tina said. "There goes my solo."

At the surprised look she received from both Mike and Artie, she added hurriedly, "Joke."

Mike put a comforting hand on her shoulder which Tina shrugged off. Artie looked up at her, finally having the chance to take in her appearance. They'd seen each other on and off over the intervening years but he hadn't seen her looking so fine for a long time. He whistled.

"Looking good, Tina. You've always had the style, girl."

Tina beamed and did a twirl for him, showing off the full skirt. Mike looked on thoughtfully as she continued to give Artie her full attention.

"I've been feeling really nostalgic lately," she told him. "Maybe it was because this was glee, a reminder of my glory days."

"Yeah," agreed Artie. "I had to come to this one. I just really didn't expect Rachel to turn up."

Tina teased, "Really? You just happen to travel with your own camera person in tow?"

Artie laughed and explained, "I needed some excuse to get out of the office. This is Gail, by the way. Gail, this is Tina and Mike. Tina was my first girlfriend."

Tina added coquettishly, "And Artie was my first boyfriend."

Gail dropped the camera long enough to wave at Tina. Mike, feeling like a spare wheel, held out his hand.

"And I'm the first husband," he said solemnly. Gail chuckled and shook his hand before returning to filming.

Tina gestured at Artie's lap with a raised brow. Artie nodded and Tina sat on his lap. Mike observed this placidly but seemed to come to a decision.

"I need to talk to Will about tonight's routine," he said casually. "I'm going to go find him. You two catch up, I'll see you later."

With that, he marched off. Artie waited for him to go out of earshot before staring at Tina.

"Okay, girlfriend, what's going on?"

Tina considered feigning ignorance but she couldn't do it.

"I think I'm trying to make him jealous or something. I'm not sure."

Artie creased his brow.

"Why do you want to make him jealous? Don't tell me Mike's cheating-"

"No, no," she interrupted quickly. "It's nothing like that. He loves me, I know. It's just things feel a bit stale right now."

"Well, woman, you had your chance to ride this train. You passed, if I recall. That said, with you looking like this and with me being so civically minded, I'm not averse to pulling into the station again," he joked, adopting a lecherous leer.

Tina laughed and slapped him lightly on the arm before jumping out of his lap. She searched the crowd, trying to see where Mike had gone. She couldn't see him. She turned back to Artie.

"If you want to spice up your marriage, I'm up for a threesome."

Tina was horrified by the suggestion but also amused. Artie had never been renowned for his advice about sex and she told him so. Artie held up his hands in agreement.

"Why do you think I'm still single?"

They laughed as Gail continued to let the camera roll.

**Kurt and Blaine**

Kurt was still sputtering from the public display of affection that Blaine had bestowed upon him when he saw Rachel. Blaine stared at Rachel as if beholding the Holy Ghost, shocked into a rare moment of silence. Blaine glanced at Finn who had gone rigid and saw Ray grab his arm. He watched Finn steel himself and turn, by which time, Rachel had vanished.

Oblivious to the emotional turmoil, Blaine was delirious with excitement.

"She came, she came! Rachel! Do you think she'll sing? Oh, maybe she'll sing with me. That would be so perfect."

He turned his bright eyes on the others and finally realised the mood. Finn, pale, excused himself. After a moment, Ray followed. Blaine was contrite as he turned to Kurt.

"Oh, God, I didn't think. Is he okay?"

Kurt shrugged.

"He'll be fine. He's probably gone out to have a smoke."

Blaine frowned.

"Finn smokes?"

"Bad habit he picked up in the army," Kurt replied, mirroring Blaine's disdain. "I keep telling him what it's doing to his skin but he chooses to ignore me, as usual. Anyway," Kurt said, changing the subject, "how are you? How's Vegas?"

Blaine was enthusiastic, "So many cute boys!"

"If they are boys, you might want to rethink your priorities," Kurt said dryly.

"All over twenty-one, I promise." Blaine embellished with the Boy Scout gesture. "I learned my lesson after that stripper in Phoenix."

Blaine was what used to be known as a lounge singer. He toured the country, entertaining in small clubs and bars. He was currently appearing in one of the smaller venues in Vegas where he'd been in residence for the last six months. Ten years previously Blaine had decided that he was deeply in love with a guy who worked as a stripper. Luckily for Blaine, the slow pace he adopted to get over his aversion to the Adonis's profession meant that he avoided disaster when the kid turned out to be seventeen. Since then, Blaine demanded to see birth certificates of all potential boyfriends before even allowing a kiss.

"That's good to know," said Kurt, with a smile.

"Aw, the guy who broke my heart still cares," Blaine said.

"And yet I was the dumpee," claimed Kurt, offended.

"You forswore the stage for kiddie literature and I was addicted. Turned out okay for us though, yeah?"

After Kurt failed to get into NYADA, he'd gone to New York anyway. His grades were good enough to get into NYU and he spent the year waiting to start there auditioning for stage work, waiting tables and living in a hovel in Brooklyn. His neighbour, a publisher of children's books, suggested he turn his hand to writing stories for him for extra money and so Kurt did, finding great enjoyment in the process. The stories did well for both the publisher and Kurt, and he attended fewer and fewer auditions. When he was finally offered a small role, in an off-off-off-Broadway show, he turned it down, deciding that writing fit in better with getting his degree and that he was happier doing it. Throughout this time, Blaine had continued to encourage him to break onto the stage. Kurt deciding to go another way didn't break them but it did mark the start of their drifting apart until they both realised that whilst they would always care for each other, their lives were just too different to sustain a relationship. It was a mutual decision but whenever they met, they played a flirty game of who-dumped-who, much to George's irritation.

"Speaking of which," Blaine continued, "how's that miserable husband of yours?"

"I don't know what it is with you two. You're like a pair of brawling guttersnipes. Maybe I should just step out of the way and let you two get on with it."

"It's easy," Blaine said feigning innocence, "he's jealous."

"Pft," Kurt said dismissively, "though it probably didn't help that you sang 'The Boy That Got Away' at my wedding."

Blaine laughed at the memory of George's indignant face. Kurt, despite his attempt at being censorious, couldn't help but follow. They surveyed the crowd together before Blaine turned more serious.

"We both love you, that's all, and we both want to be the centre of attention when we're with you."

"You wanting to be the centre of attention, I get," said Kurt mischievously, "but George?"

Kurt thought about it and then conceded, "Maybe."

"Come on," Blaine said, putting his arm around Kurt. "Let's go get a drink. Then we must find Rachel. I want to be in her centre of attention."

Blaine grinned as Kurt rolled his eyes.

**Mercedes and Sam**

Matt had gone to the bar to refresh their drinks. She'd contemplated following him but decided that she really ought to say hello to Sam. She'd been avoiding him since she and Quinn had joined the group. It wasn't that she didn't want to speak to him. It was just that he evoked the sort of emotions that she'd spent the last ten months trying to abolish.

Mercedes finally faced Sam when Puck and Quinn turned their attention to the large screen at the back of the stage.

"Hey, Sam," she said softly. "It's good to see you."

"I can't believe how incredible you look," he said, somewhat in awe of her new svelte lines.

Trying to stay light and playful, Mercedes pouted.

"So, you didn't like my more womanly shape?"

"I loved you as you were, you know that."

Mercedes' breath caught in her throat at the speed with which she'd allowed the conversation to go in the wrong direction. Panicking, she quickly asked him what he was doing and he told her about his job, his country singing and his family.

"Ellie loves your voice," he added.

Mercedes frowned. "You haven't been forcing your wife to watch that old clip, have you? I'm amazed it's still even there."

"I know your voice, Mercedes, as well as I know my own. After I first heard it on a backing track, I did some research and found all the songs you'd appeared on."

He proceeded to list them and Mercedes was stunned to learn that he possessed every single one of them. She couldn't help the tears welling up in her eyes.

"Hey, hey, hey," Sam said in concern. "I didn't mean to upset you."

Mercedes waved his concerns away.

"Oh, Sam, it's not you. It's just that I-"

She struggled to go on. Sam sought to reassure her.

"You know, you were right, in high school about us trying to find ourselves. I don't regret that we didn't get together because I love the life I have now. But I was always your friend first, so if you need a shoulder, I'm here. And if you need cheering up, I could always dance." He started to roll his hips.

Mercedes burst into laughter, a sound that quickly became a little hysterical. Sam enfolded her in a hug and didn't let go until she recovered. She stepped back and stared at him with large, wet eyes.

"I lost my husband ten months ago. This is the first time I've been out, socially. I'm thinking that maybe this wasn't my best choice for a gentle start."

Sam took her hand.

"I'm so sorry for your loss. Do you want to tell me about him?"

Mercedes shook her head.

"No," she said slowly, "but knowing that I can is enough."

They stood silently for a moment. Mercedes eventually broke it.

"Do you know if Kurt's here?"

"I don't know," Sam replied, looking around. "I hope so. As well as being charged with getting Rachel Berry's autograph, I've been told that if I don't bring back a signed copy of 'Snowy and the Beautiful Beast,' I won't be let in."

"Yes, my kids love his books, too. Shall we go find him?"

Mercedes and Sam walked away, hand-in-hand, not noticing Matt arriving with their drinks. Matt watched them go before looking for a suitable surface to unload his burden.

**Quinn and Puck**

"Wow," Puck said, staring at the screen at the back of the stage. It was footage from New Directions circa 2026.

Quinn followed his stare curiously and became caught up in the performance. She noted without surprise that Mr. Schu had remained true to type, featuring a male and a female soloist. The girl was older and very good but the boy was exceptional.

"She's stunning, isn't she," Puck said with a strange note in his voice.

"She is," Quinn said, "although the boy's better."

Puck looked at her, confused, before checking out the boy.

"Oh, that's Jonathan Schuster, Mr. Schu's oldest. Yeah, he is good. Broke Mr. Schu's heart that he wanted to be a doctor. Dads always want their kids to live their dreams, you know?"

Quinn didn't know. She had chosen not to have children with Roger, having come to accept that she was only the maternal type when gripped with insanity. Her infertility was another bone of contention with the Westersons.

"So, who's the girl," she asked out of politeness.

Puck stared at her, incredulous.

"That's Beth. I thought you'd recognise her. She's the spitting image of you at that age."

Quinn's carefully constructed reserve held and it appeared that she barely flinched but her insides were roiling and she was surprised that the floor didn't come up to meet her. Having reinvented myself so many times, I must have lost the ability to recognise myself she thought. She concentrated intensely at the girl on the screen, trying to see into her, to know her. Why was she there?

"Beth was in New Directions? How? Why?"

Puck had to strain to hear the hoarsely whispered question.

"Shelby stayed in Lima," he explained. "She gave up teaching, got into real estate and raised Beth here."

"So, you've had contact with Beth?"

"Well, yeah," said Puck, looking sheepish. On Quinn's impatient expression, he explained further, "I kinda married Shelby a couple of years after I graduated so…."

Quinn could not believe what Puck was telling her. Their daughter, he'd been a real father to their daughter. Another thought struck her and she looked around frantically.

"Is she here? Oh my lord, is she here," she asked, close to panic.

Puck approached the increasingly pale Quinn and gave her a hug.

"Relax," he said. "She's in Dayton working. She is training to become a vet. She's actually pretty upset about it missing this. She said it was because she wanted to meet Rachel but I suspect she was hoping she might meet you."

"M-me? Why? She's never tried to contact me and as far as she knows, I've never acknowledged her existence."

Quinn had long ago come to terms with giving away the unplanned and unwelcome baby she bore in high school. There was a time when she went a little crazy, thinking that she could get Beth back, going so far as to try and sabotage Shelby Corcoran, Beth's mother by adoption, but it was during a time when she was rebelling against her life as a whole. It was Rachel that brought her to her senses. Quinn may not have wanted Beth when she was born and not really wanted her after, but she did want her to have a good life and hurting Shelby would have hurt Beth.

Puck was talking and Quinn had to force herself to listen.

"…about you. I showed her all the pictures I had and Shelby would tell her what we heard through the grapevine about you. We played what New Directions footage we could find. Beth was always fascinated with you. Shelby told her that if she wanted to contact you, she should but I think Beth worried that it would hurt Shelby's feelings. That's why I think she really wanted to be here tonight. She could meet you in a way that didn't do that."

Puck looked at Quinn, trying to gauge her feelings.

"Listen," he said. "She'll be in Lima tomorrow. If you want…."

Whatever Puck was about to propose was put on hold as the screen switched off, the lights dimmed and Will Schuster arrived at the microphone, front and centre on stage.

**Rachel**

She was at home at the side of the stage and she drank in the comfort. She'd spent about half an hour with Mr. Schu, fighting the cowardice. He'd been kind and gentle and diverted her at one point by taking her on a tour of the choir room. When Mike turned up, Rachel was genuinely pleased to see him, giving him a big hug and she was happy to learn about his dance studio and his and Tina's kids. As the three of them talked, Mike wanting to ask Mr. Schu if he could add a dance routine to the New Directions performance later, Rachel began to formulate an idea, something that would help her get through the rest of the night. She was always more coherent when she sang. She made the suggestion and Mr. Schu and Mike were delighted to agree. Mike was particularly happy about the song choice, having his own message he wanted to air.

So here she was, side-stage, ready to make her second entrance of the night. She could see Mike on the far side, flexing his body. He'd stripped down to his bare chest and was barefoot. She was sorry that she'd miss being able to see him dance but it was going to take everything she had just to perform. She looked around the part of the room she could see. As before, her eyes went straight to Finn. He was at the opposite side of the room, near the door, standing with a girl. She closed her eyes and took a couple of deep breaths.

Will, having got the microphone working after his third "Testing, testing," much to the amusement of his audience, started to speak.

"Right. I'm starting a little earlier than we said but current New Directions, don't panic, you're still on at nine."

That bit of housekeeping aside, Will looked out over the crowded room.

"So… ladies and gentleman, boys and girls, this is… Wow."

The audience laughed and clapped.

"It is so great to see how many of you have made it tonight. I never dreamed that you'd all be willing to come, some of you from a long way away, to celebrate glee club."

The people in the room started cheering.

"Okay, okay," Will protested, raising his hands to calm them. "Now, you all know how glee club started-"

A brave heckler shouted out, "You tell us the same story every year!" Some of the audience cheered and clapped in good-hearted agreement.

"All right, all right," Will laughed. "That's probably true."

He paused, reordering his thoughts.

"Here's what you don't know," he said. "I came very close to giving it all up before the club was a year old."

There were ooos and ahhs and cries of, "Oh, no" from the audience.

"That would have been a tragedy because every year since, the students in this club have amazed and delighted me with their talent, their passion and their love for music."

Will felt the tears welling in his eyes. He shook them away.

"This celebration marks our second victory in the Nationals Choir Competition."

There was a huge cheer, particularly from the younger sections of the audience. Will held up his hands to restore order again.

"But tonight we also celebrate the start of the glee club and I'm pleased to say that every one of the original members is here tonight."

The applause was tumultuous at this, joined by excited chatter and anticipation.

"Some of you may have heard of one of those members," Will continued, ignoring the laughs, "and I just want to say that she's here incognito so don't go shouting about it because this lady usually attracts a much bigger, if not more exclusive audience. I am thrilled to tell you that she has agreed to perform for us-"

The room erupted into spontaneous applause again and this time, Will let it die down naturally before continuing. He looked over at Rachel and was pleased to see her gaining confidence from the reaction. He glanced over at Finn and saw him staring at his shoes. He knew his friend of twenty odd years would be finding this uncomfortable but he also knew that Finn could bear it to hear her again.

"Ladies and gentlemen, accompanied by the lightening feet of our very own favourite choreographer, Mike Chang, I am proud to present to you: Ms. Rachel Berry."

The roof nearly came off with the cheer as Rachel stepped from the side of the stage and walked towards the microphone. Will hugged her as she reached him, kissed her cheek and ran to take her place in the wings. Rachel watched Mike take his place on stage before directing herself to the audience. She wasn't going to talk, not yet. She waited for the noise to die down and then nodded to the pianist. She started to sing.

_I can't win, I can't reign, I will never win this game without you. Without you._


	5. Chapter 5: Reach Out, I'll Be There

**Chapter Five: Reach Out, I'll Be There**

_Through the tears you look around _

_But there's no peace of mind to be found_

_I know what you're thinking,_

_You're alone now, no love of your own, but darling_

_Reach out, come on girl reach out for me_

_Reach out, just look over your shoulder_

_I'll be there _

**Santana and Brittany**

Will's speech and Rachel's appearance took Santana and Brittany by surprise as they headed towards the dense crowd to instigate the first part of their plan to keep Rachel and Artie apart. It was bad enough, Santana thought, that she had allowed herself to get pulled into one of Brittany's lunatic schemes but to have to listen to Berry sing a dirge was adding insult to injury. She was about to wash her hands of the whole thing when out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the arrival of Sue Sylvester.

Santana was a terrier. She was afraid of nothing in a courtroom or out of it. She'd reduced other attorneys to tears, more than once. Even a mugger was grateful to still have the use of his genitals after an unfortunate encounter with her on a dark night. Santana hadn't seen Sue in over twenty years and didn't care a jot about cheerleading, so how could the sight of raging Sue make her stomach sink to her toes?

The words that best described Sue in that moment were huge and thundering. Santana caught sight of doughboy Hudson behind Sue, leaning against the wall, and Sue seemed to tower over even him. Given the colours of their faces, if Santana had seen a big Smurf turn up so the three of them could do a soft-shoe shuffle in tribute to the grand old flag, she'd only have been shocked by the fact Finn could do a soft-shoe shuffle.

Truth was Sue was pissed.

She'd spent ten bucks on her roots and was furious to see Rachel Berry on the stage, big as life. Her adoration of celebrities did not extend to any of Schuster's actual brood. She looked around wildly, planning to murder a certain Assistant Cheerleading Coach but failed to spot her immediately. She did note one Finn Hudson, leaning against the wall behind her together with his daughter Ray whom she'd failed to persuade to abandon the glee club for the Cheerios.

"What's your girlfriend doing here, flyboy," she burst out hoarsely, not bothering to lower her voice despite Rachel's performance.

"One, not my girlfriend, Sue," he replied evenly and in a low voice. "Two, it's a reunion."

Sue snorted and continued her scrutiny of the room. She spotted Brittany just in the moment when Rachel stopped singing, in that pause between an audience being transfixed and bursting into applause.

"BRITTANY S. PIERCE!"

There was an audible gasp as everyone turned to stare in shock at Sue. Some people eventually remembered to clap for Rachel and Mike but the applause was weak and scattered. Every member of New Directions past and present knew of Sue's antipathy towards them but they were still amazed at the naked demonstration of her disrespect and that it extended even to the world-renowned Rachel Berry.

In the crowd, Brittany clutched Santana's arm. Adopting faces of doom, they slowly made their way over to Sue as the buzz in the room rose slowly. Rather pleased with herself, Sue watched Brittany approach. From a sideways glance, Sue saw Ray staring up at her open-mouthed and heard Finn clear his throat, no doubt ready to admonish her.

"Beat it, girly girl," Sue hissed. "And take your brat with you."

Finn was feeling pretty raw after Rachel's rendition of the same song that had led him to propose to her. The last thing he wanted was a fight with Sue Sylvester, so he bit out a curt, "My pleasure," and turned to lead Ray away. Ray, curious about Sue's ire and impressed with how she had high jacked Rachel's performance, resisted her father's arm, pointing to Jonathan, standing a few feet away. Finn nodded and walked into the well of the room as Ray joined Will's son, still close enough to eavesdrop if she tried.

Sue waited for Brittany to stand before her, eyes cast down. She wanted to draw out the torture and so turned her attention to Santana.

"Santana! Isn't forty too old to still be so perky or did your jelly sacks freeze?"

"Nice to see you too, Coach," Santana replied.

Sue grunted and glared at Brittany.

"Well?"

Brittany was nonplussed. "We have a plan. I'm going to stay with Artie and Santana's going to stay with Rachel so they don't meet. Artie is so short, he probably doesn't even know she's here."

"That is the stupidest plan I've ever heard," Sue said derisively. "I know I say it every other day, but this time I mean it. You're fired!"

"Whoa, whoa," Santana interjected. "There are other things we could do. Mr. Schuster implied that Rachel would disappear if anyone called the paps, so we could do that."

"And have to wait for them to get here?" I don't think so," Sue said, starting to formulate her own ideas. The women waited patiently as they watched the wheels turn in Sue's head.

"All right, Brittany, you get Artie and lock him in my office. Santana, if I remember the old newsletters that I used to wipe the bird droppings off my city-mandated statue, a promise I conceived and achieved in my term as mayor, you're a lawyer, right?"

Santana nodded, puzzled.

"You can help Brittany if she gets arrested for kidnapping. I'm going to go get my CIA torture kit, a gift for services rendered. I seem to remember that boy was pretty easy to intimidate."

Sue marched off. Brittany and Santana, the latter wholly bemused, returned to the crowd below.

"What are you doing?"

Jonathan had taken little interest in what Sue was saying but Ray had been listening intently. Now, she was punching buttons on her phone hurriedly.

"Nothing," Ray lied.

Quick to take offense, Jonathan, who enjoyed an up-down relationship with Ray, said "Fine." He made to walk off but Ray grabbed his arm.

"Wait, wait! Okay, I'll tell you but you must not tell anyone."

"What's going on, Ray?"

"He won't say anything but Dad hates Rachel Berry being here. I want her to go away so I've twittered about her being here. With any luck, her fans and the paps will make it impossible for her to stay."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? Won't that just ruin the night for everyone else?"

Jonathan liked to think that he was the mature one. He was three years older than Ray and had for a long time acted as a big brother to her. Other feelings started to develop in him though, feelings she wasn't ready for but which she consciously encouraged between them. Now she was eighteen, she was becoming insistent that they do something about it.

"No, I don't think so," Ray said. However, she frowned a little and did start wondering if maybe she hadn't been rash. She shook it off, took Jonathan's arm and steered him to a quiet corner.

**Puck and Rachel**

Puck watched Rachel sing, enjoying it immensely.

"Damn, she's still a hot Jewish princess," he said aloud, turning to Quinn. She'd disappeared. Puck looked around for her, puzzled, but she was gone. Puck shrugged and stared back at the stage.

When Rachel finished, Puck, not being one for observing moments of silence, had already started to clap and cheer when Sue's raucous voice rang out. He didn't stop and looked hard at those around him who were looking the wrong way.

He saw Will run to Rachel and comfort her. Will spotted him watching them and gestured for Puck to come up on stage. When Puck got to them, Will asked him to look after her while he prepared for the rest of the performances. Puck led Rachel to the wings.

"Oh, Puck," she cried, weeping in his arms. Puck didn't have a clue why she was crying and didn't worry too much about it. Instead, he enjoyed the feel of her body pressed against his. Rachel was too wrapped up in herself to notice until Puck's gentle stroking of her back turned into a firmer stroking of her ass.

"Puck!"

Rachel pulled out of his arms and stepped back, staring at him in high dudgeon.

Puck shrugged, holding out his arms, in a gesture that said as well as any words, "What did you expect?"

Rachel tried to maintain her righteous indignation but couldn't help herself. She laughed, long and hard, giving vent to the long-held tension of this night, this trip, this life.

"Well, I can't get a standing ovation in a room full of people who are already on their feet and you try and cop a feel. It's just like being back in high school again. No wonder I came."

Puck's eyes glinted evilly and proudly. "Came? Do you mean-?"

"Came to the reunion," Rachel said quickly. She hit him on the arm. "What is wrong with you?"

Puck sighed. "Truthfully? I've been in the doghouse for a few weeks with the wife and I'm not built to be a celibate mutt."

"Aw, poor thing," Rachel replied with mock sympathy. "Were you a naughty puppy by any chance?"

"I did try to explain that phone sex isn't the same as actual sex," he said resentfully.

Rachel laughed again and shook her head.

"Don't ever change, Puck," she said. She looked out at the auditorium uncertainly as the current New Directions members started appearing around them.

"I'm really glad you came to the reunion, Rach," Puck said, sincerely. "And you were great up there."

"Thanks." She hesitated before asking, "How's Finn?"

"Oh, he's great," Puck enthused. "He's my boss now, you know."

"No. No, I don't anything. We, uh, we lost touch a while ago."

"Well, let's go find him. You can see for yourself."

Rachel felt the panic start to rise and sought a diversion.

"Yes, yes, we will, but first, is Kurt here? Can we find him?"

"Sure," Puck said. He led her past the curtain and down the stairs. As soon as they reached the edges of the crowd, people started to fawn over Rachel, requesting autographs and pictures. Rachel obliged happily at this greater diversion while Puck looked on like a proud papa.

**Tina and Mike**

Tina had been startled when Will announced that Mike would accompany Rachel. She had no idea he'd planned something this big without her. She turned her attention to the stage.

Rachel's singing was as beautiful as it ever was, of course, but for all Tina knew, it could have been a tone-deaf octogenarian with a ukulele. She was watching her husband dance. Mike had fluidity and a style that was unique but very familiar to her. What was not so familiar was the emotion that he was exposing with every step. His interpretation did more than match Rachel's vocal. It shouted out on its own every sentiment of the words and every word was directed at her. Tina felt her love for this man gush up her body with the power of Yellowstone's Old Faithful, making her knees weak. She put out a hand to hold onto Artie's wheelchair, seeing but ignoring his glance of concern.

Tina was oblivious when the dance finished, failing to register the sabotaged response to the performance. She just stared at Mike as he took a quick bow before the distracted audience and disappeared into the wings. She raced after him, catching him behind the stage. She leapt into his arms, a reaction for which he unprepared, and they both tumbled down, with Tina landing on top of him. She didn't care and bent down to kiss her husband of twenty years in a way she hadn't kissed him for a long time.

"Um, excuse me."

It took seconds for either Mike or Tina to hear Will as he shuffled uncomfortably over their prone forms. Finally, they looked up.

"New Directions are getting ready to go on. Unless you two want to join in, you'll need to move. I'd suggest you stay, but I've have fourteen year olds here so…."

They both grinned as they made their way to their feet. Hand in hand, they ran off, leaving Will smiling behind them.

"And good job, Mike," Will shouted after them. They didn't hear.

**Quinn**

She stared at the image in the mirror. The mirror gave nothing away however long she stood there. The mirror was singularly unhelpful in telling her how she was supposed to feel.

When Puck told her about Beth, she thought she'd die. Now, she wasn't sure why. She'd always been pragmatic about the child she bore.

Well, nearly always anyway.

She hadn't spent the intervening years wondering about her.

Well, not often anyway.

There wasn't a moment in her marriage when she became broody. She'd watch Roger's friends throw lavish parties to celebrate conceptions, births, birthdays of children that were handed over to nannies and only brought out for show on special occasions. In a weird way, it was like her own upbringing, even though her family lacked the money and the nanny.

She'd never told Roger about Beth. He probably wouldn't have married her and his family certainly would have had something to say about the whore with the bastard child had they known. One of the most stressful times of the divorce was when the Westersons went snooping and Quinn feared they'd find out about Beth. Santana had truly proved her worth in fighting off that offensive.

Quinn tried to remember the features of the girl on the screen, tried to form a picture of what she saw before Puck revealed her identity. After that, everything was a blur. She recalled a lovely voice albeit one overshadowed by a better one. She recalled fair hair, a slim figure and a pretty face. She stared at her own features, trying to match them, for Puck had insisted the daughter was the mirror image of the mother. Quinn thought that didn't make sense. The face staring back at her wasn't even hers. It was the one she'd spent years collecting, assuming, and cultivating.

Quinn shook her head and turned on the tap. When the water ran as cold as it would, she plunged her hands into it and brought the water up to her face, trying to rinse away the changes. She jerked upright when she heard the door to the bathroom open.

Santana was muttering something about kidnapping and lunacy but one look at Quinn made her forget her irritations.

"What's happened?" she asked, running to Quinn's side.

"Nothing," said Quinn, "what do you mean?"

"You look like you've seen a ghost!"

With the water still dripping, Quinn returned to her inspection of her face, noting that Santana was right. She was pale. She had feelings after all. This thought made her laugh. She laughed and she couldn't stop laughing. Santana knew Quinn very well and this wasn't Quinn. She got ready to take her in her arms when the laughter turned to something else. She didn't have long to wait for the sobs to begin. She held her friend until they stopped.

Quinn told Santana about Beth, about Puck, about Shelby. Santana scoffed at the news that Puck had actually been married to Shelby for a while. Quinn went on to say that Puck was about to suggest she and Beth meet and that she'd run.

"Why did I run, Santana?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I was over Beth twenty years ago. I have no feelings for her. I have no feelings for Puck. I have no feelings for anybody! What is wrong with me?"

"Nothing is wrong with you," Santana declared. "It's just a shock to be faced with the prospect of meeting a grown-up daughter, that's all. Listen," she added, "do you want to go? We can be back at the hotel in ten minutes and on the road to the nearest airport in twenty."

Quinn hesitated, tempted.

"What about you? You came in talking about kidnapping and stuff; seems like you have your own dramas going on."

Santana shook her head dismissively.

"Don't ask. Sue being Sue and Brittany being Brittany. I'd be happy to wash my hands of them both."

Quinn examined her friend's demeanour.

"Liar," she accused softly.

Santana shrugged and Quinn returned to the mirror, drying her face and making repairs. The act of re-creating the right image gave her the courage she was in danger of losing. She turned to Santana.

"I'm fine. We'll stick with the plan and leave first thing tomorrow. You do whatever you need to do for Brittany. I'm going to tell Puck that I think it is for the best that I don't meet Beth."

"Are you sure?" Santana asked. "Aren't you at least curious?"

"I'm not sure. I am curious. But it is what I'm going to do. I don't need complications in my life. Come on. Let's get back out there. We're strong, we're beautiful and we are not going to let Lima beat us down."

**Rachel and Kurt**

It took Rachel and Puck some minutes to make their way through the excited crowd. Kurt and Blaine sensed the tornado of activity coming their way. While Kurt braced himself, Blaine jumped from one foot to the other in delicious anticipation. When Rachel arrived, Blaine threw himself into her startled arms.

"Rachel, Rachel, you were wonderful!" he gushed.

Rachel laughed and graciously added, "Thank you, Blaine. I'm not sure the room agreed with you but it's nice to know somebody was listening."

Blaine brushed off the people in the room, declaring them all heretics. Puck agreed and they started talking about how lame people could be. Rachel turned her attention to Kurt, standing off a little ways. After a moment's hesitation, she surprised him just as Blaine had surprised her, reaching up to put her arms around his neck and drawing him in. It was a long hug, one that Kurt finally broke. He was just as surprised to see the glint of tears in her eyes.

"Hello, Rachel," he said. "Long time, no see." He struggled and failed to keep out the plaintive note.

Kurt and Rachel had kept in touch at the beginning, seeing each other semi-regularly when Kurt first got to New York. She would interrogate him about Finn and he would get tips on what she was learning at NYADA. Everything changed when Rachel got the juvenile lead in "Oh, Honey!" on Broadway which happened absurdly fast, in her first three months in New York. Seeing her became all but impossible. Her opening night was the first time he had talked to her in a month and even then it was for only minutes. The fêted new ingénue of Broadway was too busy for the likes of those who wouldn't manage to get on stage at an AmDram production in Poughkeepsie, or so her manager informed him after his last aborted attempt to contact her. It was around the time that Kurt was discovering his flair for writing and he too became busy enough to give up pursuing a friendship that Rachel was so quick to abandon. He was glad it happened after she devastated Finn in the same way. It spared Kurt divided loyalties. He had to admit, though, that it still rankled that Rachel had dropped him so utterly.

Rachel caught Kurt's tone and sighed.

"I'm sorry. I know what it looked like. It was a madhouse back then and I just…"

"I know," Kurt said. "I got it. No room for struggling queers in the life of a Broadway legend."

Rachel laughed at that. "If you knew how many of my leading men were gay you wouldn't say that. Most of my boyfriends too, actually."

After a moment's pause, she turned serious again. "You know, there is a story behind us losing contact-"

"Excuse me, Ms. Berry; can I have your autograph?"

Rachel was gracious and complied with the request while Kurt glared at the intruder long enough to send him scurrying away. Kurt swept the surrounding crowd with the same look and the people considering approaching them thought better of it.

"You were saying?" he inquired, sceptical.

Rachel shuffled her feet uncomfortably. "I, uh, I just wanted to explain to Finn first, that's all." Kurt rolled his eyes.

Rachel looked up at him, her eyes pleading. "How is he? Is he well? Is he happy?" The questions came rushing out, just as they did when they used to meet up in New York. Kurt considered how to respond, not wanting to do anything that would hurt his brother.

"He's happy. He's back in Lima for good, running Dad's business. He and Ray have a nice house near the park." He stopped, not wanting to add anything about how Finn, except for Ray, lived a pretty empty life.

"Ray," Rachel said slowly, "that's his wife?" Kurt reckoned he imagined the hurt in Rachel's voice.

"Wife?" Kurt snorted. "No, Ray's his daughter. Jenny walked out on them before Ray was six months old. Good riddance, I'd say. She was a real bitch. Finn just can't help attracting them."

Rachel stepped back, taken aback by Kurt's vehemence and offended by his clear inclusion of herself in that group. At the same time, she felt something break inside her, like a dam. So many emotions poured out that she didn't know if she was devastated or elated until Kurt said indignantly, "What are you so happy about?"

"He's single?"

"Rachel, no. Do not do this to him. It took him long enough to get over you." He didn't add that Finn had never recovered fully. He went on urgently, "Don't go opening up old wounds."

Rachel recognized Kurt's sincerity and concern and knew he had every reason not to trust her. She took a deep breath, her mind working furiously.

"Kurt, I'm going to talk to him. If you want, you can be there too to make sure I don't screw it up." Knowing how much she'd already screwed up, she suspected that this was hyperbole, but didn't care. She lit upon an idea, becoming very animated, nearly jumping up and down. "I'll make you a deal. I'll avoid him tonight. But. You help me organise a lunch for tomorrow, for _our_ New Directions. They can bring their partners if they want. It'll be on me, it'll be a much smaller crowd, and I get to talk to Finn."

"A lunch? Where? How? It's," Kurt checked his watch, "past nine. Have you forgotten this is Lima?"

Rachel grinned as she pulled out her phone. She tapped a button.

"Max, it's me." She paused, listening politely though impatiently to the protestations that followed. "Yes, I know," she said, interrupting the flow. "I will explain later, I promise, but in the meantime, I need you to do something for me. Hang on."

She turned to Kurt. "What's the best hotel or restaurant in Lima these days? Who does the best food?"

As the New York resident struggled to work out how to say that good food and Lima were not synonymous, Puck shouted out, "The Wingate Hotel." Rachel nodded and returned to her call. The men watched as Rachel gave instructions. After Rachel finished her call, she told them that when she got confirmation, she wanted them to find all the New Directions members of Rachel's years at McKinley and invite them to come to lunch. She made it more than clear that she would be deeply unhappy if they failed. The men started listing who they knew were in the room and who they'd yet to see. Rachel's phone beeped.

As she took the call, Puck was telling Kurt and Blaine that there was no way Rory would be there, given that he'd gone back to Ireland after they'd won Nationals. Rachel, getting confirmation that it had to be a brunch starting at eleven but that otherwise, everything was arranged, missed Puck's mouth drop open when a tall man with laughing eyes approached them.

"Top o' the morning to ya," Rory joked. Before Puck could regain his credibility, Will Schuster appeared on stage again.

**Finn**

Sitting in the seats, above the fray, Finn observed Rachel, Kurt, Blaine and Puck from a healthy distance. She looked good, really good, he thought. More importantly, she looked happy. In that moment, Finn knew he'd been right to let her go all those years ago. He'd cursed fate every day since for not bringing them back together but without fate's cruel track, he wouldn't have Ray. He wouldn't give Ray up for a hundred Rachel Berrys. It was time to let go of the past.

Feeling better, Finn told himself that there was no doubt about it. He was over Rachel Berry and could face her calmly now. All he had lacked was closure. He stood up to go say hello when Will appeared on stage. Finn sank back into his seat.

"Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls, it's already been quite a night, yeah?"

The crowd laughed and clapped.

"I want to thank Rachel and Mike for their wonderful performance," he said.

The crowd, finally given the chance to show their true appreciation, responded better than Will could have hoped. Finn saw Rachel preen and he smiled to himself, clapping harder.

"From the first stars to the latest, winners of the 2034 Nationals Choir Competition, I am proud," Will said, starting to tear up again much to the audience's delight, "deeply proud to present New Directions."

Finn had been to the finals and had seen the performance of the glee club's set but it didn't make him any less eager to watch it again. He saw Ray take front and centre for the second song and his pride was no less than Will's nor had any less effect on his emotions. Tears streamed down his face. Their final number was an energetic dance piece and not for the first time, Finn was grateful that the only thing she that she had inherited from her mother was the ability to dance. Finn stood after each number and remained standing after the last, prepared to go talk to Rachel. He was surprised when the club began another number.

"I don't believe it," he muttered to himself before laughing at the inevitability of it.

They were doing "Don't Stop Believin'."

As they sang, more and more past members joined them on stage until it was full of bodies. Finn saw Puck and Rachel and Kurt and Blaine and even Santana and Quinn on stage, singing lustily. The rest of the crowd joined in until Finn felt he was the only one not contributing. He raced down the steps to join them and correct the omission.

**Lauren, Sugar, Rory and Joe**

Puck spotted Lauren Zizes from the stage, surrounded by guys. He jumped down, and raced over to her. Lauren was regaling her audience with tales from the 2016 Olympics where she's won a bronze medal. She saw him join the group and, to the great enjoyment of her admirers, grabbed him in a bear hug before flipping him and throwing him to the ground. Puck gasped for breathe for a full minute before he could talk again, staring up at the fierce warrior that had been his honey pie. He still loved her magnificence.

"Hey, Geronimo. Didn't that style go out in the nineties?"

"The nineties," he responded, indignant, rising to his feet. "I remember a time this had you begging for it."

"Ah, my young and stupid days," she mused with a laugh.

Puck was fairly sure he was being insulted but couldn't quite work out how. This was par for the course with Lauren though so he just grinned in response. They had a quick chat about her four marriages and his three before he got to the point of his seeking her out. Lauren looked set to say no but Puck regaled her with tales of the desserts at the Wingate. At the first sign of salivation, she gave in.

Rory found Sugar. She'd taken her name to heart and was far cuddlier than he remembered, though no less lovely and no less inappropriate.

"My leprechaun," she yelled, jumping into his arms. He twirled her until she begged him to stop. She chattered inanely for a good three minutes, raising every stereotype that had ever existed about the Irish before moving on to inform him of how great her life was. She was still single, she added with a suggestive smile.

"Alas, my beauty, I am not," Rory said with a sigh. "In fact the family is at this very moment enjoying the joys of being tourists in Chicago."

Sugar pouted and commenced to sell Rory on the benefits of being American and if he would just ditch the family, she would get him a green card like that, snapping her fingers. Rory laughed and told her she should give Ireland a try where in some areas the gentlemen outnumbered the ladies two-to-one. When Sugar looked to be seriously considering this, Rory hurriedly told her about the brunch. She accepted quickly, too quickly, and Rory realised that he was going to have to keep a few bodies between them the next day to stay out of trouble.

Nobody could find Mike and Tina so Puck sent them a message about the brunch, trusting they'd check their phones at some point, otherwise he'd ring them the next morning. Artie had disappeared too but Brittany pointed out Gail who took the message. Rachel, Kurt and Blaine had managed between them to get everybody else they thought was there and after reassembling, worked out that the only one of whom there was no sign was Joe Hart.

Quinn and Santana hadn't promised to go to the brunch, which was to take place at their hotel, but when Rachel approached Quinn to persuade her to attend and to find out if she'd seen Joe, Quinn promised that she would think about the brunch and further to keep an eye out for the missing Joe.

As Quinn made her way through the room, she spotted an unlikely sight. There was a reverend in deep conversation with one of the people who had been a freshman in Quinn's senior year. She passed them, stopping only at the sound of the man's voice. She turned and stared at him. Without the dreadlocks and with the prim glasses, the reverend looked nothing like the Joe she remembered except around the eyes and, on seeing her, the smile.

"Quinn Fabray!" he exclaimed. "My very first crush."

Quinn blushed and then rushed to hug him. She stepped back, a little embarrassed at her demonstrativeness, particularly with someone in his profession. Joe recognised the uncertainty and laughed. He bent down and whispered in her ear, "We're allowed to be friendly, you know, and human."

Quinn smiled and he asked how she was. It was an innocent question but one she didn't know how to answer. He looked perplexed at her hesitation and then added, "You know, if you need to talk about something, I'm pretty good at listening."

"I know. I do," she responded, amazed at how much comfort she took from the opportunity but not here, not now. "I'm staying at the Wingate, maybe we could meet up for breakfast or something."

"I'm kind of pushed on Sundays," he said, "but as long as it can be early-"

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Of course, you're busy."

"Quinn, I would be glad to join you for breakfast. I'd love to catch up. We just need to be early."

Quinn frowned, remembering that she had more to say. She told him about the brunch and he frowned. He looked at her face, at the crowd and then at his hands.

"Here's what I'll do. I'll come at seven for breakfast with you. I'll have to return to my church to do my service but I'll be free by noon and I'll come back to see everybody at the brunch. How's that?"

"Are you sure?" Quinn wasn't convinced that either she or the brunch was worth this much effort on his part.

"I'm sure," he said, reassuringly.

**Artie**

Artie decided that he hated camera operators. They were all so intent on being observers and not participants. This was the only explanation for the fact that he was still locked in Sue Sylvester's office, having been invited by Brittany on the promise of some private time together, an offer he couldn't resist. Gail knew where he was, having followed them and she had to have seen Brittany leave him there. She was out there somewhere, doing nothing about it.

He was about to call the police when the door opened. He looked up hopefully but his hopes died on seeing that it was Sue, as terrifying as she'd ever been.

"Uh, uh, hey Sue."

Sue beamed and looked around the room.

"Where's the girl with the camera?"

"Outside somewhere," he said sulkily, "no doubt chatting up some hunk."

"Well, shall we firm up the questions for the interview? Then I'll go find her. First off…"

Sue commenced listing the subjects that Artie was to cover to make her look good. He stopped listening and frowned. This was ridiculous. He was a man and he wasn't going to be treated like a pet monkey. He waited for her to finish.

"No."

Sue looked at him in surprise. "No?"

"No, Sue, I'm not going to interview you. I'm not going to ever interview you. You obviously had Brittany kidnap me and that is out of order. Even if I don't get anything with Rachel, I'll be damned if I let myself be pushed around," he paused at his choice of words before continuing firmly, "Let myself be pushed around by a pair of idiotic cheerleading fanatics."

"I have ways of making you co-operate," she yelled, holding up something that looked horribly like a dentist's drill.

"I don't care."

With that, Artie wheeled himself to the door, throwing it open. Gail was right outside, filming. He glared at her.

"Rachel Berry won't talk to you," Sue yelled out after him.

Artie spun round and yelled back. "I don't care! I'd rather we had nothing than glorify the cult that is Sue Sylvester. You've made the kids in New Directions miserable for years. You are a bad influence and a bad woman and I'm not afraid of you anymore."

"I'll cancel PBS," she yelled from the door as he rolled away.

Artie didn't turn around but he did stop. He held up a hand making a definitive gesture with his fingers. Gail paused for a moment on Sue's face, surprised by the grin that appeared upon it, before following her boss back to the auditorium.

He'd paused at the door and he was grumpy.

"Okay, what were you doing while I was locked up in there?"

"Filming," she said evenly.

"Filming what?" he demanded.

"New Directions, the crowd, people." She shrugged.

Artie was about to let loose with another rant when he noticed something happening behind Gail.

"The hell?"

Gail followed his gaze with the camera. They were between the main doors of the school and the auditorium. There was a crowd of people running towards them. Both were nearly overturned in the rush as the mob passed them. Artie and Gail raced to follow.

**Matt and Mercedes**

Mercedes had tried to take part in the sing-along of "Don't Stop Believin'" but the effort finished her. How could she believe in anything anymore? She choked. She felt the tears well up as the song and the cheers finished without her. She searched her purse frantically for her keys before remembering that her car was no more likely to move now that it had been earlier. She nearly screamed in frustration.

"Can I help?"

She hadn't seen Matt approach her. She couldn't speak. Matt took in her distress and put his hand under her elbow, leading her to the exit. On the way, Rachel found them and gave Mercedes a hug. Mercedes was too emotional to do more than nod at her old rival. Rachel cast a suspicious glance at Matt who merely shook his head. Rachel let them go, whispering to Matt that if they didn't turn up at the brunch the next day, she would stalk Matt to his grave. She stared at him hard enough to let him know she had the means and the will to do it.

Once in Matt's car, they sat silently for a couple of minutes, until Mercedes wiped the tears from her face.

"Where to?" Matt asked the question gently.

"Home," she said, pausing. "No. Not home, not yet. My babies should be asleep but I can't-"

Mercedes' voice faded to nothing. Matt nodded and started the engine, desperately trying to remember his geography. He drove competently and Mercedes just experienced the comfort of the movement, taking her away from the noise and the feelings. When he finally stopped, she looked around in surprise.

He'd taken them to Lookout Point, Lima's version of Lover's Lane. Here, the small bluff looked out over the town and all the major buildings and businesses could be easily picked out. Mercedes shot her head around at Matt but he was getting out of the car. He walked to the front and leaned against the hood. Mercedes was grateful for the moment and took a few deep breaths, collecting herself. Matt had been such a gentleman. She should have known she had nothing to fear from him and she was embarrassed by her flash of doubt.

Composed, she stepped out of the car and joined him as he studied the view.

"You know, I've always missed this place. There was more to do in California but there was something so comfortable about Lima, like an old blanket," he said.

"I know what you mean." She thought the same. She had to admit that being back here in the bosom of her loving family had done her a lot of good. She was already a lot stronger than she had been. Going out tonight had proved that and although she had been overwhelmed eventually, she lasted far longer than she would ever have predicted.

She started reminiscing. "Justin and I used to come here, whenever we came to Lima to see my family. We'd look down at the smallness of life here compared to LA and yet still love Lima. He was LA born and bred but he had his moments of thinking that the grass was greener in small towns." She laughed. "He got over it quickly enough as soon as we got back to LA."

Matt smiled, staying silent to let her talk.

"It-it was cancer. He fought it, we both did, refusing to give in, but…"

She choked back a sob. Matt continued staring at the view.

"Some days, I hate him. He left me with three young children and took my voice with him. Why would he do that?"

She shook her head.

"It took me so long to find him, you know?"

Matt nodded, understanding exactly what she was saying.

"I loved him so much." At this, she couldn't stop the tears flowing again. Matt moved over to hold her, to let her cry herself out. They stood together for a long time before Mercedes pulled herself out of their embrace.

"I'm sorry; this must be so embarrassing for you."

"No, it's not, not at all" he said. "I've been on the same road as you, looking for the right one. I thought I found her but I was wrong and ever since then, it's been an uphill struggle to keep going. I wasn't as lucky as you."

"Lucky!" Mercedes burst out bitterly but as soon as she said it, she knew he was right. She had been lucky and if God saw fit to make Justin's time with her so brief, she had to be grateful for the time they had.

"You're right," she told Matt, sighing. "I was lucky, wasn't I? He gave me three beautiful babies and he gave me his love. He'd hate what I'm doing to myself."

"Yep," Matt agreed. "I expect he would if what you're doing is hurting you."

They went silent, lost in their own thoughts for a while. Matt sighed and looked out over Lima. He noted an unexpected light in the distance.

"Oh no!"

"What?" Mercedes followed his gaze. "Is that a fire?"

"I think so," Matt said, "and I think it's my motel."

They jumped into the car and sped off the bluff.

**Rachel and Finn**

Rachel was in a happy mood. The people she didn't know were keeping a respectful distance, only occasionally requesting autographs and photographs. The people she did know seemed happy to see her and, much to her delight, remembered that they were talking to Rachel Berry, fondly remembered co-captain of New Directions and pain in the neck and not Rachel Berry, superstar. They didn't simper, they didn't fawn. They talked to her like a person. It was something that Rachel hadn't really experienced in a long time and something she didn't realise until that moment how much she'd missed.

As promised, she'd stayed away from Finn. He looked to be heading her way at one point, so she quickly rushed over to another group of familiar looking people. She died a little inside to see from his face that he got the message and he didn't approach her again. She hoped this crazy plan would work because otherwise, she was surely making things even worse for him.

Even worse was to come however. She was listening to Brittany, who was patiently explaining the benefits of unicorn horns, when there was a commotion at the doors to the auditorium. They burst open and a lot of people rushed in, many with cameras of various hues. Rachel was horrified to recognise one in particular; a stalker with whom she'd had a lot of unfortunate experience and who scared the pants off her. Yet again, he'd ignored the restraining order and she didn't have her minders to keep him away from her.

As Rachel looked around wildly, Will and Finn were moving. Will ran to the door, attempting to stem the flow, an effort that proved futile. Finn headed straight for Rachel, grabbed her hand, and before she could protest, had her halfway up the stairs to the back of auditorium.

"Finn! What are you doing? Let me go!"

Finn ignored her and dragged her to the door at the top. He kicked it open and led her out of the auditorium.

Rachel, her dignity in tatters, turned on him angrily.

"How dare you manhandle me!"

Finn, leaning his weight against the door, looked down at her, secretly enjoying the rage. The door started shaking accompanied by the sound of kicks.

"You want to go back in," he said dryly.

Rachel glared at him, at the door and finally at the heavens for her predicament.

"No," she said shortly.

"Would you mind grabbing that fire extinguisher?"

Rachel, worrying that the man she loved once was out of his mind, looked around and saw the slim container.

"What? Why?"

"Well, I can use it to block the door but if I move, there won't be any point, now will there?"

Rachel narrowed her eyes at his condescension but understood what he wanted to do. She grabbed the extinguisher and held it out, staying far enough away to make him work to reach it without losing his ability to barricade the door with his body. She smirked at him, happy at the petty revenge.

Finn rammed the extinguisher in the space between the doors and the handles, wedging it solidly. He backed away and the door held. He took out his phone.

"What are you doing now? We have to get out of here before they find us. There are other doors you know."

Finn didn't responded, punching a number.

"Will, I've blocked the back door, creating a fire hazard. Give me two minutes to get Rachel away and then send somebody round to open it, okay?"

Finn turned off the phone and gestured for Rachel to precede him out of the school. Huffily, she did, electing to not speak to him for being such a bore to her. Her resolve lasted for two seconds once they neared her car in the parking lot. It was blocked in and there were people streaming out of the building.

"Finn!"

Finn took in the situation at a glance and grabbed Rachel, this time lifting her bodily and throwing her over his shoulder. She screamed in protest as he ran to his own vehicle. He opened the passenger door and tossed her inside. Running around quickly, he was in and had the engine started in seconds. They pulled out of the parking lot with a squeal of tires.

Rachel was beside herself with indignation but smart enough to leave him to concentrate on driving. He was going fast and he was making sudden turns, keeping his eyes on the road in front of and behind them. She turned to see if they were being followed and was relieved to see no sign of it. Eventually Finn seemed satisfied too and dropped to a more leisurely speed.

"Always the hero," Rachel muttered now that she could begin chastisement.

Finn glanced at her and grinned. She could see his blood was up and that he had the gall to be enjoying this.

"Where are you taking me?" she demanded.

"Where do you want to go?"

"Home."

"Rachel, I am not driving you to New York."

"My motel, I mean," cursing her stupidity.

"Motel? That seems a little rustic for Rachel Berry."

"I am incognito," she said defensively, "and as any _actor_ would know, you need to live the part."

Finn laughed at her attempt at a slur. He was having far too much fun to let her get to him. Yep, he thought, I'm over it. Rachel continued to glare at him and was sure he was making fun of her.

"Which?" he asked.

She responded with a pout. "Which what?"

"Motel."

"Oh." Realising that she was being childish, she dropped the attitude, telling Finn the name of the motel. He nodded and took the next turn right.

Rachel had promised Kurt but she couldn't help herself. She was here, he was here. She hesitated, wondering how to start.

"Finn?"

"Yeah," he replied, staring ahead.

"Look at me."

"Can't, babe, I have to look at the road. It's called being a responsible driver."

Finn kicked himself for letting the old endearment slip. He hoped she hadn't noticed. She had gone awfully quiet again. He speeded up a little to get to the motel more quickly. His heart sank when he heard her take a very deep breath. He immediately decided that offense was the best defence.

"I don't need to know, Rachel. You have your life, I have mine. The past is over and I for one am pretty okay with that."

Rachel's lungs deflated. She turned to look out the window, hiding the sudden tears that flowed down her cheeks. "I won't let him see me cry," she promised herself, repeating it over and over again until the tears stopped and dried on her cheek. She lowered her head, willing the drive to be over, raising it only at the sound of fire engines.

Finn pulled over to let them pass and then followed.

"What the hell?"

Rachel's motel was engulfed in flames.


	6. Chapter 6: Welcome to the Jungle

**Chapter Six: Welcome to the Jungle**

_Welcome to the jungle_

_We take it day by day_

_If you want you're gonna bleed_

_But it's the price you pay_

_And you're a very sexy girl_

_Very hard to please_

_You can taste the bright lights_

_But you won't get there for free_

**Rachel**

"You can't go," Rachel cried. "You're the only person here who doesn't hate me!"

"Rubbish," Anna replied as she tried to work out how her luggage had shrunk. "You could help, you know. Is this yours or mine?"

Anna held out a jacket.

"Mine," Rachel said sulkily, "but you can have it if I can have that dress."

"Done," Anna replied, folding the jacket and adding it to the pile that was threatening to spill over the edges of the suitcase.

"Anna," Rachel pleaded, "you're doing so well here. You have an extraordinary voice. I just don't understand it. You want this!"

In September, Rachel had experienced some trepidation at the thought of sharing a room with a stranger. Truthfully, as the only child of indulgent parents she was not happy about sharing a room at all. First-year residents at NYADA had no choice unless they wanted to find their own accommodation in New York, so Rachel came to accept it as another of the mountains to climb in her rise to stardom. It wouldn't dampen her excitement over finally living in New York.

As she first walked into her abode for the next nine months, she was quick to see the suitcases piled up on the one of the beds, untouched, and the strange still girl standing by the window. Having sharpened her competitive edge over the summer, Rachel's first thoughts were gauge how pretty she was, to take umbrage at being beaten out on choice of beds and of trying to place this potential rival in her research. Realising with some frustration that she was very pretty, that there was no advantage to one bed or the other and that her research missed this one, she marched forward with her hand held out.

"Hello," she said brightly. "I'm Rachel Berry, your new roommate."

The girl turned and Rachel was surprised to see the tracks of tears on her cheeks.

"H-Hello," the girl said, her voice quavering. "My name is Anna Daniels. P-Pleased to meet you."

The British accent and the obvious distress caused Rachel's heart to melt and she quickly abandoned her assumed attitude, giving Anna a huge hug instead. Anna was from somewhere called Tunbridge Wells in England. She was, much to Rachel's relief, not a direct rival. Anna was all about opera and she had turned down a place at the Royal College of Music, preferring to travel to America to broaden her wings. It was a decision that she had regretted as soon as the plane touched down at JFK. It wasn't that Anna was homesick. It was that in the summer, she'd met someone special.

They bonded quickly after that. Rachel told Anna all about Finn and Anna told Rachel all about Charlie. They commiserated with each other about the price of following their dreams. As the academic year started, they extended their sessions to bitch to each other about the terrible teachers, the terrible students and the apparent inability of some to recognise their gifts. That they did so good-heartedly was a sign that neither really was a whiner, it was just a way to release their day-to-day frustrations. They also, when they could, shared New York culture. Rachel took Anna to her first Broadway show and Anna took Rachel to a performance of Verdi's _Otello_ at the Met. What they talked about most, however, was the ones they'd left behind.

Rachel was jealous that Anna could at least talk to Charlie as she did every day through calls, texts and computer links. When Rachel got really down about it, she would give Kurt a ring and they'd meet up. Rachel always felt guilty whenever she met Kurt. She made it NYADA and he didn't and even though the two were unrelated, she couldn't help but feel bad, particularly when she heard about how difficult he was finding it, not just being constantly rejected at auditions, but surviving in the city.

Anna was her real lifeline. That's what made the blow so devastating when, after three months, Anna announced that she was quitting and going back home to England and to Charlie. Every argument Rachel threw at Anna to make her to change her mind failed. Rachel watched Anna pack disconsolately. Anna was giving it all up for love and Rachel didn't know if that made her feel better or worse. Who was making the mistake here?

Rachel accompanied Anna to the airport and they said their tearful farewells. In the taxi on the way back, Rachel called Kurt to meet up. Before she could say anything, he excitedly told her that he'd had a call back and that things were looking positive. She wished him luck and didn't suggest lunch, knowing that she would be poor company. Instead, she returned to her room at NYADA and stationed herself at what she would always think of as Anna's window.

A knock on the door interrupted Rachel's pity party of one. She stormed towards it, ready to demand the intruder leave her alone. She threw the door open and the scream stuck in her throat. What emerged was a squeak.

"Jesse!"

**Finn**

Finn lie on his bunk, sleep momentarily evading him. Most nights, the soft ebb and flow of snoring rocked him to sleep. It was comforting. Tonight, he was on his own, the others out celebrating on a pass. He'd declined, wanting to be refreshed for the next day. Maybe he needed the snores of a dozen grunts around him to sleep anymore. Damn, a new worry, he cursed. Rachel didn't snore. Then again, he hoped he and Rachel wouldn't be doing much sleeping. Finn smiled to himself and felt the telltale signs of arousal. He thought about dealing with it directly but instead rolled over onto his side, taking deep breaths until it passed. It helped thinking about Sgt. Lawrence, one of his instructors, who delighted in making Finn's life hell during Basic Combat Training at Fort Benning.

Outside the sadistic Lawrence, Finn had enjoyed basic training. It helped exhaust him. When he fell into bed at nights, he went out like a light, with never a chance to brood or wonder what was going on in New York. His mom wrote to him regularly with snippets of news, mostly from Kurt who had made his own journey there, but never much. Kurt wrote a couple of times but his letters were mostly about failed auditions and apartments riddled with cockroaches.

When Finn and his recruiter had considered Finn's performance in his ASVAB, both were surprised at how well he'd done in his General Technical and Mechanical Maintenance scores. His recruiter reckoned he should consider going for a job in the Motor Pool which made a lot of sense. He could continue and improve his vocational training and experience with vehicles, readying him for life after the army in three years. So that was the plan. Finn found out pretty quickly that plans meant nothing compared to the army's pressing short-term need to fill other jobs. After his ten weeks of BCT, Finn found out that he wasn't going to the Motor Pool.

Finn wasn't in any position to object to his assigned MOS and was mollified by the fact that his Advance Individual Training would still take him to Virginia – a hell of a lot closer to New York than Georgia or Alabama. Fort Eustis was about 130 miles south of DC and that was, he hoped, workable with New York.

The real surprise came the first time he saw the six Black Hawk helicopters they were to train on. The birds were beautiful. Touching one was like touching throbbing skin. For him, they were as beautiful as Rachel.

"I can never tell her that," he had warned himself, reckoning that Rachel would not appreciate the comparison.

Finn loved the job. For fifteen weeks, he had six new lovers to stroke, to care for, to encourage into perfection. He worked hard, studying in every spare moment, and quickly displayed an affinity with the helicopters workings that placed him at the top of his group for diagnostics.

Yesterday, he'd finally completed his AIT.

Today, Private Finn Hudson was a UH-60 Helicopter Repairer awaiting deployment.

Tomorrow, it would be six months to the day that he had said good-bye to Rachel Berry. Tomorrow would be the day that he could finally call her.

Life was pretty fucking sweet, he realised just as his consciousness faded into dreams.

**Rachel**

Rachel was on stage when her phone vibrated. Jesse checked it, seeing a number he didn't recognise. He backed away from the wings, answering with a low voice.

"Yes?"

"Hello?"

"Yes, hello. Who is this?"

"It's Finn, Finn Hudson," said the voice, confused. "I'm calling Rachel Berry."

Jesse had learned through the glee club grapevine that Rachel had got into NYADA. It spurred him to move to New York, not for her but for the drive she showed and his own ambitions. Carmel High had fired him anyway but leading Vocal Adrenaline to second at Nationals was good enough to get him a temporary job, covering a maternity leave absence, as the choir director for a small group of associated private schools in the city. This gave him time to audition for himself. It was at one such audition, for a new musical called _Honey,Don't!_, that Jesse had a life-changing idea.

Jesse hadn't been picked for the show but while trying to get an edge for himself by stalking the director, the grandly named Austin Popperbrooke, he had chanced to overhear a conversation between Popperbrooke and the show's producer. They were bemoaning having seen all the usual girls for the female juvenile lead and how none of them gave them the freshness they were looking for. The producer said that what they really needed was a complete unknown but that they didn't have the money to go trawling the country.

"This isn't _Annie_," he complained.

Jesse had seen enough of the auditions with the ladies to know that Rachel could kill the part. She was perfect. That didn't do him any good, of course, unless he could get something out of it. Maybe it wasn't a part that he needed.

"Excuse me, Mr. Popperbrooke? There's someone you need to see."

Jesse didn't tell Rachel when he turned up at her door that he had told Popperbrooke he was her manager and agent. There was time enough for that, particularly as Rachel immediately grasped him in a tight hug, an action which thrilled him. He could see she'd been crying. She drew him into the room. He looked around, noticing the signs of vacancy.

"So, where's the Hulk?" Jesse asked casually. Last he'd heard, they'd moved to New York together.

Rachel burst into tears and told Jesse about Finn being in the army, about Anna, and about her own doubts about putting her dreams before her love life. Jesse, elated to hear that the oafish jackass was out of the picture, at least for now, rebuked her for this last emotion, telling her that her dreams are what mattered and that he could prove it. Rachel looked up at him, befuddled.

"Let's go get a coffee," he said, dragging her out of her misery hole. Over a couple of skinny lattés, Jesse told her about _Honey, Don't!_

"I-I can't," Rachel uttered, "NYADA frowns on students auditioning and won't give time off. I need to complete my education. There's so much I don't know."

"Rachel," Jesse said with urgency, "what's the point of learning when you could be doing? NYADA don't have to know anyway. If you don't get it, no harm, no foul, but it you do, you'll be a Broadway star in less than four months. You wanted to know if you should stay, if you were right to go for it. Here's your chance to find out."

Rachel considered this. Maybe Jesse was right. Maybe she should see what could be before doing something that could blow it all. Anna may be happy, back in Charlie's arms, but for Rachel, she wouldn't even see Finn until he finished training, even if she did go home. She owed it to herself and to him to keep going.

"Okay," she said. "I'll do it."

Three months later, Rachel's life had changed beyond recognition. She was the juvenile lead of _Honey, Don't!_ She'd dropped out of NYADA – another reason to be uncomfortable with Kurt, particularly after finding out that his positive yet ultimately failed audition was with the production – and moved into a tiny apartment that she shared with Jesse. Jesse took on responsibility for the contracts, the scheduling, the bills, for all her needs while Rachel concentrated on her performance. They were in final rehearsals.

"It's Finn, Finn Hudson. I'm calling Rachel Berry."

Jesse knew that Finn would be calling. Rachel had told him about the deal and how much she was looking forward to their six-month quarantine ending. Rachel would have dropped everything to take this call but that would have been unprofessional and stupid. Foreknowledge was one of the reasons that Jesse had effectively confiscated Rachel's phone.

"I'm sorry, she's busy. She's on stage now," Jesse said curtly, keeping his voice low.

"Um, right, okay. I, uh, I can't leave a number and we're not allowed cells but can you tell her I called and tell her I'll try and call again?"

"Sure," Jesse said. "Finn Hudson. Got it."

With that, Jesse ended the call.

**Finn**

Finn stared at the dead phone. That there was something familiar about the voice was only a fleeting thought as warring emotions overwhelmed him. He was gutted that he hadn't reached her. That feeling came first but as he played the call back, he got excited.

"She's on stage! That's got to be good, right?"

Maybe it was a NYADA thing and he was letting his imagination run away with him.

"Private Hudson!"

"Sir, yes sir" barked Finn, standing to attention.

"Have you finished your personal call, Private Hudson?"

Finn cursed the base for having a CO who thought that private calls should be saved for when soldiers were on leave and a lieutenant on duty who was a kiss-ass. He'd been lucky to be allowed this one.

"Yes sir, except…"

"Not interested, Private. You are dismissed."

Finn gave up and left the office. He'd have to wait now until he was on leave. He'd hoped to spend the week with Rachel in New York, despite his mother's protestations but without talking to Rachel, it was impossible to arrange anything. He'd go to Lima and call her from there.

A few days later, Finn was home for the first time in over six months. His mom was horrified by the sight of her slimmer, harder son and spent the week treating him like a turkey waiting to be stuffed. From the Hudson-Hummel house, Finn called Rachel twice more with the same result. Finn was sure now that he knew the voice but he just couldn't place it.

When Rachel didn't call back, Finn drove over to the Berrys, hoping to see Hiram and LeRoy. They weren't there and two days later, on the last full day of his leave before deployment to Iraq, Finn learned why. _Honey, Don't!_ had opened to rave reviews and made a star of one Ms. Rachel Berry. No wonder she's been busy, he thought proudly.

Finn watched _Good Morning America_ on his last morning in Lima. They had a report on _Honey, Don't!_ They showed footage of the cast at the stage door from the night before and for the first time in forever, he saw Rachel. She was on the arm of Jesse St. James. Finn checked his watch. It was 10am in New York. Rachel wouldn't be on stage. He called.

"Hello."

"Hello, Jesse, it's Finn. I want to talk to Rachel, now."

Jesse sighed.

"Haven't you got the message yet, doughboy? She doesn't want to talk to you. You dumped her, remember?"

"I didn't dump-"

Finn stopped himself. He wasn't going to have this conversation with fucking Jesse.

"I need her to tell me that, Jesse. Not you. You're as reliable as a sundial at midnight."

"Listen, soldier boy," Jesse hissed, "go back to playing with your toys. Rachel and I are together now and you are history."

Finn's breath caught in his throat but he carried on, keeping hold of his temper.

"Like I said, I need to hear that from Rachel."

"Well, she's in the shower so you're fresh out of luck. Listen, what do you think that noise is?"

Finn had been conscious of the sound throughout the call but had dismissed it as of little consequence. Considering it now, he knew that Jesse wasn't lying about a shower running.

"Finn," Jesse said softly, "give it up. She's on her way. She doesn't need some army airhead messing up her life. I know you love her, so do I. I can help her, am helping her, got her this role. What have you ever done for her but hold her back?"

With that, Jesse hung up. Finn dropped his head and let the phone fall from his hand.

**Rachel **

With her dressing gown firmly wrapped around her, Rachel stepped out of the bathroom.

"All yours," she called out to Jesse who was holding a phone, staring out into the distance. "Is that my phone? Who was it?"

"Nobody," Jesse said quickly. "Wrong number."

Rachel frowned, disappointed. She'd hoped Finn would have contacted her by now. She wanted to share this with him so badly. She had no way of contacting him, no address, no number. She'd weakened once, convincing herself that it was acceptable to just find out if he was okay, and called him, only to discover that Carole had his phone, the recruits not being allowed to take theirs to basic training. Maybe she should contact Carole. Maybe he had been hurt. Her heart started to race. Or maybe he'd met someone, someone who was prettier and not so high maintenance, someone who-

Rachel shook her head. This was ridiculous. She was on top of the world, going to meet her dads for lunch on their last day in New York. She was being stupid. He loved her and he would call.

She dressed carefully for her date with her dads. Photographers were starting to pursue her and she didn't want to create a bad impression. Her dads were taking her to one of the more expensive places in town as a celebration and she wanted to look the part. By the time she finished, Jesse had showered and changed. He wasn't joining them but he was going to some meetings with prospective sponsors and advertisers.

"Good luck with the meetings," she said as she gathered her purse contents together. "Can I have my phone, please?"

"No."

"What? Why not? Give me my phone! You've had it all week!"

"I can't. I'm waiting for a call from the Tony people. They want to arrange for you to sing at the awards this year and I was on your phone when I was talking to them yesterday. They are organizing a conference call with the network in Hollywood and will be calling in…," Jesse checked his watch, "forty-five minutes. Take mine."

"Damn it, Jesse. I wish you wouldn't do that. There are still some things I like to do for myself, like call people whose numbers are on my phone."

"You don't need to call your dads anyway. You'll be with them."

"It wasn't my dads I was thinking about calling," she said sulkily.

"Rachel, when will you accept that he's not going to call?"

"Shut up," Rachel yelled, putting her hands over her ears.

It was an argument that had been going on for a week. At one point Jesse had told Rachel that she was in danger of blowing it because she wasn't focused. Rachel had recognized some truth in the words and redoubled her effort to put Finn to the back of her mind but more recently, she'd begun to think that Jesse might be right, that Finn didn't want to contact her. It made her a little crazy.

"Well, you shut up," Jesse responded, getting just as angry. "It wasn't Finn Hudson who got you your break, it wasn't Finn Hudson who gave up his own career to put you first and it isn't Finn fucking Hudson who's working his butt off getting you famous!"

Rachel's eyes narrowed in fury.

"And I'm grateful but it doesn't give you the right-"

Rachel paused, drawing in a deep breath and searching for her inner diva before adding coldly, "If you don't want to do this anymore, Jesse, I can find someone does."

Rachel grabbed Jesse's phone and stormed out of the apartment.

Rachel didn't stay mad long and hated being at odds with Jesse. He'd proved to be a wonderful friend and a pretty good manager. She knew he wanted to be more than that but he'd understood that she didn't, that she was Finn's. It didn't stop him working his butt off, as he'd rightly pointed out. She'd make it up to him. On her way back, she used her brand new credit card to buy him a Rolex. She had it wrapped. He wasn't there when she got home and she spent the spare hour she had writing a letter to Finn with a covering letter to Carole. She added it to Jesse's pile of stuff that needed to be stamped and mailed. Jesse still wasn't back by the time she had to leave for the theatre, so she scribbled off an apologetic note to him and left it with the gift in the centre of the table.

**Finn**

Iraq was hot and the repairers had taken to ditching their shirts while working on their birds. It wasn't regulation but unlike the last one, this CO was more relaxed about things that didn't matter. Finn felt the sweat dribbling down his chest as he finished off the engine rebuild, marking the end of his shift. He used the rag to wipe his forehead and stared out over the desert.

He had written to Rachel congratulating her on her success, instructing her on how she could contact him and telling her that he'd tried to call her. He received no reply. Every night when the mail was handed out, he crossed his fingers that this time there would be a letter. The only letters were from his mom. He considered skipping mail call tonight and just collapsing on his bunk. He rejected the thought. If nothing else, he loved reading his mom's letters, so he turned up and was surprised to get two envelopes. Well, three, it turned out, as one was within another.

The lone letter was from Kurt, the first he'd received from his brother since he'd got to Iraq. Kurt's letter was full of fun and woe. Kurt was having a hard time getting anywhere but was happy to say that he'd found another source of income, writing children's stories. Finn furrowed his brow, trying to work out how that happened. Kurt went on to tell Finn the sad, sad story of his failing to get cast in Rachel's show and how he couldn't get past her manager now she'd stopped calling him. Finn shook his head. Maybe Rachel really was dropping everybody. He didn't want to think about it.

The second letter was from his mom and full of the Lima news and Burt witticisms that she always sent. She was an old campaigner when it came to keeping up the spirits of her men when away at war and her letters always made him laugh. This time, however, any joy was postponed by the inclusion of a third envelope. Finn knew Rachel's writing as well as his own and raced to tear the envelope open.

He read it, his hands shaking.

He checked the envelope to see if there was more and quickly scanned his mom's letter. She simply said that Rachel has asked her to pass the letter onto him. He went back to Rachel's letter.

It wasn't a letter. It was a note. It was four words.

_I'm so sorry. Rachel_

After reading it for the fifth time, Finn Hudson's heart broke.

**Rachel**

Rachel had taken a tumble backstage at the third matinee which wrenched her ankle. She had refused to bow out of the evening's performance, instead having injections and taking painkillers to get her through the performance. On the Sunday, she was wrapped up on the couch, resting her ankle and reading through a load of documents and contracts that Jesse wanted her to read. She noted sourly that there were no letters to read. She was in pain and not happy.

"Jesse," she shouted grumpily. "Do I have to do these now?"

Jesse came out of his bedroom and looked down on her impatiently. He was sporting his new watch.

"Yes," he said. "I told you."

"My ankle hurts," Rachel whined.

"Oh, for God's sake, take a couple more pills. You wouldn't have lasted five minutes in Vocal Adrenaline," he scoffed.

Rachel stuck her tongue out at him but accepted the two pills gratefully, downing them with a sip of water.

"Did you talk to Popperbrooke about taking Kurt on?"

Jesse looked a little blank before remembering.

"Yes, yes, I did. He'll think about it."

"When will I rate more than him thinking about it? I want Kurt in!"

Rachel's few weeks of glory had brought her inner diva out in force. He was going to have to watch that. He quickly changed the subject.

"Anyway," Jesse said, "I've got good news. Popperbrooke's found us a better apartment, closer to the theatre. It's got a terrace and everything."

He grinned.

Rachel was in no mood to be placated.

"Can we afford it?"

"That's the beauty of it. We don't have to. We have it on loan, one of the producer's rich friends. And by the time we have to vacate, we'll have enough to buy whatever we want."

Rachel supposed she was pleased about this but still couldn't force a smile. Jesse stooped down beside the couch and put his hands on her arms.

"Rachel Berry, you're moving on and you're moving up."

Rachel said a little sadly, "I guess I am."

**Finn**

It had taken him a week to respond to Kurt's letter. He hadn't given Kurt any details. He hadn't wanted to admit to Kurt that he was luckier than Finn in getting any calls at all. He just wrote words to the effect of "re: Rachel, yeah, me too bro'." He supposed, as he wrote it, that this was him moving on. It didn't feel like it as a tear trailed down his cheek.

He threw himself into his work, impressing his officers and the men with his skills and his leadership abilities. It was the incident however that sent him to Fort Rucker.

The incident happened on a tour in Afghanistan. The compound was attacked with missiles on the night most of the officers were celebrating the departure of a popular pilot. The first missile landed on the building leaving whoever was left alive in there trapped. The next missile took out one of the six Black Hawks. After the second Black Hawk was damaged, Finn, without an officer in sight, grabbed three other senior repairers and between them, they got the birds off the ground. Repairers weren't pilots and were under strict orders to never fly the helicopters, but good repairers knew how to fly them and the orders weren't going to save the birds. Finn, while hovering, spotted the location of the attackers when a missile was sent his way. He evaded it and fired, wiping out the threat. He landed the Black Hawk, prepared to be court-martialled.

His CO, one of the few in the building who survived the first missile, bawled him out before adding that saving the army millions of dollars and being a bit of a hero once the press picked up the story went some way to alleviate the calls for his head. The army couldn't let Finn remain a repairer. He had broken one of the cardinal rules. With only a year on his contract, he'd spend it busted back down to Private and lucky to fix toy cars. The CO had something else in mind if Finn was willing to commit to the army. That something else was for Finn to apply for Warrant Officer Candidate School with a view to going on to Flight Training to become a pilot. Finn didn't hesitate.

Alabama wasn't as hot as Iraq but it was muggy as hell. Finn had to study harder than he ever had in his life to stay up with the year long training. Alabama did have some diversions though, one of them being a six foot pole dancer called Jennifer. Finn and Jenny met the first night he ventured off base, looking for a cool beer. Finn liked the novelty of not having to stoop to kiss a girl and Jenny liked Finn's prospects. She had run away from home at sixteen and was getting tired of life as an exotic dancer. Finn told Jenny that he liked her but that he wasn't interested in a relationship. Jenny said that was true for her too and then stroked him through his fatigues. Later, as Finn paused to grab a condom, she assured him that it wasn't necessary as she was fitted with protection. Finn believed her.

Three months later, in a ceremony that had all the emotion of an iceberg, Finn kissed his pregnant bride, missing the crook in his neck.

**Rachel**

Rachel steadily went on to bigger and better things after her debut in _Honey, Don't!_ although she never got Kurt into the production. By the time it was offered, he'd apparently quit. For Rachel, there was a Tony, of course, another show and then a couple of movies that did well. She released an album a year, her third being considered a classic by music critics. She'd struck while the iron was hot, releasing a clothing line just before coming off _Honey, Don't!_ to capitalize on her character's quirky style. She'd met and sang with Barbra at a charity fundraiser. Rachel had written a list once of all the things she wanted to achieve. She reckoned if she ever found it again, there wouldn't be anything to tick off. In four years, she's gone from nothing to one of the biggest stars on the planet.

There was one achievement that she did not recall being on the list. She tried to visual it.

_Addiction to painkillers_

Nope. It wasn't there, she was sure of it. She sighed as she surveyed New York, fighting down the urge to find the bottle. Jesse and she had managed to secure separate apartments years ago now, although they were in the same building and she was pleased that her dads had finally given in to her attempts to lure them there. She'd secured the apartment immediately below hers and it was ready and waiting for them. They were due within days. Wasn't that enough?

"No."

Rachel raced to the bathroom, opening the medicine cabinet. She reached out for the familiar bottle. It wasn't there.

"Damn it, Jesse!"

Jesse had taken to collecting her pills and rationing them out to her. She had fired him on numerous occasions when he was reluctant to give her more, only to re-hire him as soon as she got what she wanted. It was a constant tussle, with Rachel refusing to concede that it was for her own good. Besides, she thought angrily, who was he to be deciding what was good for her? Her pills got her through her days.

Jesse wasn't there to yell at so she grabbed the keys to his apartment and took the elevator down the four floors to reach it. It wasn't the first time. She let herself in and marched straight to the bathroom.

"Double damn it, Jesse!"

Usually, he stacked them in his own medicine cabinet but not this time.

"Where the hell did you put them?"

Rachel recognized that searching Jesse's apartment was not her finest moment. It did not stop her. She checked every one of the twelve rooms, ending in his bedroom. She ignored the signs of his latest fling and searched the drawers, under the bed and the closet with no results. She flounced down on the bed, panting. She'd have to call him and yell at him she thought petulantly.

Staring around the room curiously, Rachel wondered about the women Jesse entertained here. There was a time when she would have been willing to be one of them but that was so long ago and not since Lima. She herself had got into the habit of dating whoever was handy, and there was always somebody handy, never becoming involved. She wasn't interested in a relationship. Her career was more important. She'd made that decision once and it was easier to stick with it.

She noticed one of the pictures askew on the wall and rose to right it. As she did, she realised that Jesse had a safe. He'd kept that quiet, she thought.

"I bet that's where my pills are."

Rachel cleared her mind and concentrated. It was a simple safe with a digital code of four numbers. She thought hard about what numbers Jesse would pick. She tried his birthday – no dice. She tried hers and smiled when the safe clicked open. Her pills were there along with a small wooden box.

Telling herself that he deserved being snooped on for making her go through this rigmarole, Rachel took the box out of the safe and sat back down on the bed. There was Jesse's passport, some photos, many of herself, and some letters. Rachel smirked at Jesse keeping his old love letters as she shuffled through them, glancing at the addresses. Then her heart stopped.

The letter was addressed to her, not Jesse. Rachel recognized the writing. The letter had been opened but she knew she'd never seen it before. With trembling hands, she pulled out the piece of paper, noting the date in March 2013.

_Dear Rachel,_

_I want to tell you how proud I am of you. I saw you on TV after the opening of your show. The rest of the world finally knows what I've always known. You are the brightest star._

_I tried to call you but I keep getting Jesse. He said that you didn't want to talk to me and that he and you are together now. He told me everything he's done for you and I thought maybe it was true or maybe it was for the best because he could and had helped you. I really wanted to talk to you, you know, to be sure that you were happy and doing what you wanted. If you are, know that I will always love you and that you being happy makes me happy too. _

_If you want to write to me, write to the address at the bottom of the letter. I'm overseas now but it will get to me. I'd like to hear from you but I understand that you're really, really busy._

_You made it, babe, just like I knew you would._

_All my love forever,_

_Finn_

Rachel re-read the letter, an intense heat building in her brain. She looked down at the other letters. There was one other that wasn't Jesse's. It didn't have an address, just the name, "Finn." It too had been opened. Rachel knew what it was before she got the pages out of the envelope. It was her letter to Finn, the one she'd enclosed in the letter to Carole.

Rachel felt numb but her mind was racing. She rose quickly, leaving the pills and the letters on the bed. She took only her letter and Finn's. She ran up the stairs to her own apartment, pausing when she reached it to get her breath back. She grabbed her phone and called her dads.

"I'm coming to Lima," she announced. She dismissed Hiram's stuttering that the house was being packed up and that they'd be in New York the day after tomorrow by saying that she'd explain when she got there. She ran to the office in her apartment, the exclusive domain of her PA, Max.

"Max, I want to be on the first available flight to Lima."

"Peru?"

"Ohio. And get me my lawyer on the phone. Jesse and I are breaking up for good."

"Hallelujah," breathed Max who had never got along with Rachel's so called manager.

On the flight to Lima, Rachel, dressed casually in jeans, shirt, roomy jacket and baseball cap pulled low over her brow, turned off her phone. Jesse kept calling and she wasn't prepared to talk to him yet. At the airport, she managed to avoid being recognised by donning some huge sunglasses. She knew her luck wouldn't last forever but she didn't want to have to deal with fans or the press right now. She was pretty sure she'd disgrace herself if she did. LeRoy was waiting, a concerned look on his face, his fears not alleviated by the thunder on hers. She said nothing until she got home.

Running on fury had its toll and Rachel's determined façade cracked as she told her fathers what she'd discovered. They'd been sympathetic and kissed and hugged their weeping daughter, not pressing, waiting for her to tell them what she was going to do next. She finally did, saying that she was going to find Finn. She intended to go over to see Carole. Hiram and LeRoy exchanged a glance.

"Honey, do you know what time it is?"

Rachel shook her head. What did that matter?

"It's 2am," LeRoy said. "You'll have to wait until the morning."

Rachel considered protesting but the outburst of emotion had exhausted her so she simply nodded. She helped her dads unpack bedding for her bed and sank into a restless sleep.

Rachel was on the Hudson-Hummel doorstep at 9am. She had stood for two full minutes, working out what she was going to say to the mother of the boy whose heart she had inadvertently toyed with. Gathering herself, she knocked on the door, impatient now to give her speech. There was no answer.

"Are you looking for Burt and Carole, dear?"

An elderly lady was tending a flower bed in front of the house next door.

"Yes," Rachel said, "do you know where I can find them?"

"They've gone to the hospital, dear. There was an ambulance and-"

"Thanks!"

Rachel didn't wait to hear more. She raced to LeRoy's car and sped to the hospital, praying as she went.

"Please don't let it be Finn. Please don't let it be Finn."

**Finn**

Finn had insisted that Jenny have the baby in Lima. It would have made more sense if she'd stayed with him but her behaviour was threatening both the baby and him. He didn't care if she cheated or who she cheated with, he just wasn't going to have his career ruined by her running wild on the base. He still wanted to be there for the baby's birth though and that meant running through a lot of hoops to get the necessary permissions. He'd worked out when to take the leave and everything would be fine if she came on time. His training had made him a careful planner though and he also worked out what to do if she came early.

She came early.

Finn got the call at midnight. He had already received permission for emergency leave and it was simply a matter of getting himself a flight to Lima. He'd have to wait until the next day to fly commercial so he hitched a ride on a military exercise which got him from North Carolina to Kentucky and then hired a car at a local airport to drive the rest of the way. He made it to the hospital at 9:30am. After inquiring at the desk, he raced up to the second floor waiting room where he found his parents and, to his surprise, Will Schuster.

After a brief chat with his parents, he and Will hugged.

"What are you doing here?"

Will, grinning from ear to ear, said, "Max arrived."

"Today?"

Will nodded and Finn grabbed his hand, shaking it firmly.

"Congratulations, man."

"And to you," said Will, pumping his hand just as vigorously, "a daughter I see."

"You've seen her?"

"Yeah, come on. I'll show you."

Will and Finn, Finn's arm around Will's shoulder, walked together to the viewing window.

**Rachel**

At the hospital, Rachel wasn't sure where to go. She tried reception but there was no patient called Finn, Burt or Carole Hudson or Hudson-Hummel. She even tried Kurt's name. She checked the corridors and waiting rooms she found on the first floor and then ran up the stairs to try the next. She was trying to be sneaky so as not to be recognized but not be so sneaky that somebody would call security. She mustered her best acting skills to pull it off.

On the first floor, rounding the corner into the sixth corridor she found, thinking there must be a better way to do this, she was astonished to see Will Schuster and Finn Hudson, walking towards a large window further down. She stopped short at the sight of Finn. He was in uniform and looked so, so something, dignified, important, one of those things. All she knew was that her heart stopped beating and her stomach flew into her throat. For all her searching and planning her speech to Carole, it hadn't occurred to her to consider what she would say to _him_.

She followed behind them, trying to listen to what they were saying as she thought through what to say. They passed another corridor and Rachel slipped down it, standing at its corner to watch as they stopped at the window. She could see the writing above the window now and heard Will say, "That's my Max."

Her heart warmed as she heard the pride in Will's voice. He had a son. That was so precious. She giggled to herself that he had the same name as her PA. She strained to catch Will's next words.

"And that," Will said, pointing at another crib, "is your daughter. See the baby Hudson tag?"

Rachel let out audible gasp, slapping her hand over her mouth as she swung back around the corridor. She started running. She didn't know how she got there but she did find her way back to LeRoy's car. She didn't cry. She couldn't. She loved him and she had to be happy for him. He'd moved on and he was obviously content. He didn't need her anymore, if he ever did.

She started the engine and headed for home.

**Finn**

Finn heard the strange sound and tore his eyes away from his baby to look behind them. He saw the flicker of a small figure in a baseball cap disappear around the corner. There was something about it that made him take a step towards the corner.

"Finn Hudson?"

"Yes, ma'am."

He wheeled around to be faced with a stern-faced nurse. Her face softened as she took in the uniform.

"Would you like to hold your daughter?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am," he replied, keeping the sob out of his voice.

"Come with me then. By the way, do you have a name? Your wife," the nurse added, with a moue of her lips, "said she didn't care and to ask you."

"Yes, ma'am, I've picked a name," Finn said, taking a glance over his shoulder at the empty corridor before following the nurse. "Her name is Rachel."


	7. Chapter 7: Come As You Are

**Chapter Seven: Come As You Are**

_Come as you are, as you were,_

_As I want you to be_

_As a friend, as a friend, _

_As an old enemy_

**Mercedes and Matt**

They got down to the motel as the fire engines arrived. Matt parked in the road, out of the way, before getting out and watching, his hands on top of his head. He had his wallet and credit cards on him but everything else he'd brought with him was in the room that was now blazing. He nearly cried when he thought about his computer and everything on it.

Mercedes followed him out and stood by him quietly. She heard him swallow a sob. She laid her hand on his arm, stroking it up and down. It was a gesture that had comforted her babies and it had comforted Justin. Matt appeared not to notice or, at least, he didn't shake her off.

They stood watching for some time, seeing the firemen and women turn their hoses on the flames. Mercedes looked over at some of the other bystanders and was surprised to see Rachel and Finn. Rachel was wearing the same stricken look as Matt and Finn just looked worried. Rachel couldn't have been staying here, surely, Mercedes thought. She dismissed the idea, nearly laughing out loud at the idea of it.

Eventually Matt turned to look at her.

"I'd better get you home," he said with a sigh. "I seem to remember offering hours ago."

Mercedes smiled. "You better get _us_ home. You're staying with me at my parents' house."

Matt started to protest, saying he could find another motel.

"Hell to the naw," Mercedes declared with some of the spark Matt remembered from high school. "I am a good Christian woman and I will not let a person in need wander the streets at night. You are coming with me and there will be no argument."

Mercedes didn't actually add "Hmpf" at the end of her dictate but Matt would have sworn on a stack of bibles that she did, so strong was the implication. He watched her march to the sports car, wrench open the door and drop herself down on the seat, for all the world a woman wronged. Matt shook his head and laughed softly to himself. He'd already lost his stuff. He reckoned he'd lose something even more dear if he resisted her any further. He meekly climbed in and started the engine before looking over at her.

"Are you mad at me?"

Mercedes laughed out loud.

"No," she finally said, "I'm not mad at you. Sometimes I forget that I'm talking to adults and not naughty boys with their fingers in the cookie jar." She paused before adding, "Seriously, you can have a bed for the night. Well, actually, you can't, it'll have to be the couch, but it's the least I can do."

Matt nodded and set off with Mercedes giving him directions as he needed them. It only took ten minutes. Inside the house, Matt was introduced to Mercedes' parents who sympathised with his plight and joined their daughter in insisting he stay the night. They apologised for having to put him on the sofa bed. Mercedes and their grandchildren were occupying the spare rooms. Matt was quick to reassure them that he would be fine and to show his gratitude for their generosity.

Mercedes' mother wanted to hear about the reunion and, over a cup of hot chocolate in the kitchen, he described the event. Mercedes had disappeared somewhere – to check on her kids, he guessed – and Mr. Jones was folding out the sofa bed. Her curiosity satisfied and the bed made, the Jones' retired for the night, bidding Matt a good rest. He heard them say good night to Mercedes on the stairs and turned as she came into the room. She was holding a pair of pyjamas.

"Um, these were Justin's," she said slowly. "He kept them here for our trips to Lima."

She held them out tentatively. Matt could see how much she was affected by the prospect of someone else wearing her husband's clothes. He reached out but instead of taking them, he folded her arm back towards her body, leaving her holding the pyjamas against her chest.

"It's okay, Mercedes. I'm a boxers man and I promise they don't have holes in them."

Mercedes giggled, ignoring the tears welling up in her eyes. She nodded in gratitude and turned to leave him in peace. She suddenly turned again to face him.

"Oh, I forgot to say that there's a glassful of brand new toothbrushes in the downstairs bathroom there," pointing to a door. "Dad's a dentist so he keeps a stock of them for every visitor. There's lots of toothpaste too. Go mad."

She grinned before leaning up and kissing Matt on the cheek. "Thank you for making a difficult evening pleasurable."

Matt watched her go, startled by the kiss. He felt himself blush. He shook his head and explored teeth paradise.

Upstairs, after Mercedes undressed and washed, she picked up the pyjamas again, clutching them against her chest. She lay down on her bed with them and thought about Justin. Every so often, she saw Matt's face. It didn't even occur to her that she never saw Sam's.

**Finn and Rachel**

"No, no, no," Rachel was crooning softly.

Finn wondered why she was so affected. It wasn't like she had lost anything she couldn't replace easily. He was ready to dump her at the nearest hotel as soon as she was ready to go. As he waited, he took the opportunity to have his first really good look at her in the light of the flames. She was still beautiful but he knew that already. It was hard to avoid pictures of her, footage of her, anything of her. He was more curious to see what changes there had been. Her skin was still clear and smooth. He was damned if he could see a wrinkle, not even a laugh line. She hadn't had a nose job so he didn't expect her to go for chemical cushioning or a face lift but he was pretty naïve about that sort of stuff. Maybe it was the light. Unlike his, her hair retained its rich darkness, still as shiny and soft as he remembered. Her body – that he could see a change in. It was fuller and yet even slimmer in a way he couldn't work out. All he knew was that studying Rachel's body was doing him no good at all and he turned his attention to the fire. Eventually, she addressed him.

"Finn, I-"

Getting proficient at cutting her off, Finn rushed to say, "It's okay, Rachel. I'll take you to a hotel, get you settled for the night."

She shook her head but didn't respond, instead climbing into his car. He sighed and followed her action, putting the keys in the ignition and leaning back.

"What's wrong, Rachel? Were there things in there that you can't replace?"

Rachel shook her head vigorously.

Finn was perplexed but decided to avoid interrogating her. He started the engine and steered the car to the Wingate. It took about twenty minutes, all driven in silence. He was about to pull in when he stopped, his eyes narrowing at the scene at the front of the hotel. There was a crowd gathered and Finn could see lights and glints from cameras.

"Shit!"

Rachel, in a world of her own, looked up at him in surprise and then at the view.

"Oh, no," she uttered in frustration. Finn backed out, driving away quickly.

"It's just as well. I left my credit cards in my room."

"That was dumb," Finn said, then he laughed. "Not that I wouldn't have paid for it but I really can't see the Wingate turning away Rachel Berry."

"Maybe not," she agreed, "but the price would have been a bigger pack of vultures than that."

He glanced at her and saw her shiver. He frowned.

"Well, the question now is what to do with you."

Rachel was recovering her spirits. "What do you mean what do to with me? I'm not a child, you-"

Finn held up a finger and Rachel glared at him. He started to talking to himself.

"Hey, Mom?"

Rachel jumped as Carole Hudson-Hummel's voice boomed through the car.

"Hey, baby," she said, much to Rachel's delight. Finn shot her a warning look not to laugh. Carole continued, "How was the reunion? Did you see Rachel? Kurt called and he said-"

Rachel noted that Finn was as rude to his mother as to her. She folded her arms across her chest in feminist solidarity.

"Mom, Mom, Rachel's with me. Her-"

Carole's well placed "Oh!" told Rachel where her son had learned his habits. This amused Rachel. Carole's changed tone did not.

"Are you all right, Finn?" Carole was concerned.

"We're fine, Mom. Rachel's motel has burned down and the paps have the Wingate surrounded. Can you take her in for the night?"

"What? No," Carole cried. Rachel jerked her head to the side, unwilling to let Finn she how disappointed she was that Carole hated her so.

Carole, unaware of the emotional turmoil she was causing, carried on, "Your brother called and has already told Sam he could stay overnight for some brunch tomorrow, plus Puck is here." She added with a big sigh, "As usual."

She took a deep breath. "Honey, I'd love to see Rachel but I have a house full of horrible men who take up a lot of space. I have nowhere to put all of them, never mind Rachel! I know she's small but I just can't do it."

Finn was laughing and Rachel, relieved to hear that Carole didn't hate her after all, smiled.

"It's okay, Mom. We'll work something out. I'll talk to you in the morning."

"What? Sorry, darling. George distracted me. I think the boys are here." There was a pause and then they heard, "Oh, God, not Blaine as well!"

"Night, Mom." Finn shouted to be heard over the sudden din of voices and disconnected the call.

Rachel looked up at him curiously. "So, what _are_ you going to do with me?"

Finn, still smiling from the call, glanced over at her, suddenly becoming serious. He sighed.

"I guess I'll have to take you home."

**Quinn and Santana**

"You have got to be kidding me!"

Santana Lopez could not believe the scene in front of her. The taxi driver had refused to go any closer, citing risk of injury to pedestrians. Santana snorted but gave up her attempts to persuade him to mow down the crowd. Sending him off without a tip and a flea in his ear, she stood with Quinn and gazed on the rabble, gathered, she presumed, for the great Rachel Berry.

Santana's smoking body had a lot to do with genes. It had more to do with hours at the gym, hours that made her strong as well as hot. It was with this strength that Santana shouldered and elbowed her way through the mob. She had her arm around Quinn, shielding her less aggressive friend from the bodies, limbs and technological paraphernalia surrounding them. Finally achieving the entrance of the hotel, Santana turned and spat out some unfriendly advice as Quinn slipped gratefully into the foyer.

"If one of you touches me or my friend again, or disturbs us in any way, I will go all Lima Heights on your asses and then I'll sue what's left until you have nothing but your dicks. Then I'll cut those off!" She added a few choice phrases in Spanish before finishing with, "Get out of here!"

Santana wheeled around and joined Quinn in the hotel.

"You okay?" she asked Quinn, unhappy with her paleness.

"I'm fine," Quinn replied, pleased to be out of the ruck. "Let's go up to our room. I need a shower in the worst way."

They made their way up to their suite. While Quinn took a long shower, Santana wondered if Rachel was even staying at the hotel. She figured that however much Santana might argue the point, Rachel had far more pull than she and Quinn combined and that if Rachel was at the Wingate, she'd be in this suite. Damn her, Santana thought, it always ends up being all about Rachel Berry. She should have destroyed her when she had the chance.

Pouring herself a drink and sinking into the soft cushions of one of the oversized armchairs, Santana sighed. She recognized her own hyperbole for what it was. She she didn't hate Rachel. If nothing else, the evening had reminded her that she was happy in glee club, really happy. She loved performing and, despite how truly idiotic and irritating they could be, she loved every other person in the club. She reckoned after high school that she would do what Rachel did, go into show business but one look at the prospects, and more importantly at the pay scales, convinced her to reconsider her options. She remembered Schu telling her she'd be a natural as a lawyer and that was a sort of performing but with much better benefits. She contacted the University of Louisville and confirmed that she would be taking up her scholarship there and that she could do pre-Law. She tucked her mom's money away, saving it for Law School.

Quinn wrapped in a complimentary towelling robe designed to fit someone twice her width and breadth, walked into the lounge, poured her own drink and settled down on the couch, drawing her legs under her.

"Are we staying?" she asked.

"What?" Santana was still in her own thoughts and was momentarily lost.

"The brunch. Here, tomorrow. Are we staying for it?"

"Do you want to?"

Quinn was pensive. "I honestly don't know."

Santana stared at her friend for a moment. "This isn't about the brunch, is it?"

Quinn looked into her glass and downed the remains in one. She rose to get herself another drink. Once she resettled on the couch, she shook her head.

"No. Yes. I don't know. She won't be at the brunch. Seeing Beth later, or rather, whether to see Beth is a separate question. I've been like a yoyo all night. I told Puck I wouldn't meet her and then I told him I might and-"

She stopped to point to her own head with a circling finger.

"Crazy."

"Okay," Santana said firmly, "let's be analytical and take this one step at a time. We can leave first thing in the morning. Do you want to do that?"

"No," Quinn said, sure of herself. "Joe's coming for breakfast."

"Joe! God Squad kid with dreads?" Santana laughed merrily, unable to imagine why this, of all things Quinn could do tomorrow, that this was the thing she was certain about.

"He's the Reverend Hart now. Talking to him might help me sort myself out."

Santana stopped mocking. She knew Quinn took religion a lot more seriously than she did.

"Okay, so that answers one question. Next, what about the brunch? Do you want to sit around for a few hours staring at the maws of the losers we left behind and worse," she added with a shudder, "watch Hudson eat?"

As Santana posed the question, she knew that she was loading the dice unfairly and in contradiction to how she actually felt. She wanted to stay for the brunch. She thought it would be fun for no other reason than to see if any of the dimwits had learned any decent retorts to her wit in the intervening years.

Quinn nodded slowly, ignoring the bias in the question. "I think I do. There were some people I didn't get to talk to, like Mercedes and Finn. And Rachel. What about you?"

Santana considered continuing her assigned role of devil's advocate but gave it up.

"Me, too," she said. "It is stunning that I enjoyed myself tonight, but I did. It took my mind off my desperate need to get laid."

Quinn smiled, familiar with Santana's complaint of her absent partner. She was about to respond when the phone rang.

"Who the hell's calling at this time of night?" Santana demanded as she jumped up to answer. "Yes," she barked, hoping it was one of the idiots downstairs so she could make good her threat.

Quinn heard Santana identify Puck in a surprised tone.

"What's the matter Sitting Jew? Don't you have your own women to bootie call?"

Santana listened for a moment before holding the phone out to Quinn.

"He wants to talk to you."

Quinn hesitated and sighed. She rose and walked towards her bedroom.

"I'll take it in here," she said.

Santana waited for Quinn to pick up before slowly setting down the receiver. She refreshed her drink and returned to her armchair, legs dangling out the side. She lifted one leg, examining it critically. It was smooth and it was perfect. She leaned forward to stroke it with her hand, bringing it higher and higher before stopping. She sprawled back into the armchair.

"Damn, I _do_ need to get laid."

Quinn returned after ten minutes or so. Santana looked over at her expectantly but Quinn just shrugged. Santana decided to summarise.

"So, we're staying for breakfast, we're staying for brunch, we're having a mutual vomit session to keep these hot bodies and then…?"

"Then, we'll decide what to do next," Quinn said firmly.

"Okay then," Santana muttered.

"I thought you said you enjoyed yourself," Quinn said, noting her mood had soured in the time she'd been on the phone.

"It's nothing," Santana said, "I miss Jane, that's all."

"Call her," Quinn said simply.

"What? I can't. It's like," she checked her watch, "it's like four in the morning there."

"Well then she should be home, shouldn't she?"

Santana pondered this. She had no reason to not trust Jane and she'd never called her in the middle of the night before. Then again, she hadn't felt so strong a need to hear her voice before either.

"She'll kill me," Santana said slowly. Quinn just smiled at her.

Santana stuck out her tongue and raced out of the chair into her room. Quinn waited placidly for her to return. It was a long wait, enough for Quinn to be quietly drunk when Santana returned, her face beaming.

"Better?" she asked.

"Heaps," said Santana. "She wasn't too mad at me because she'd only just got to bed. She's been at the opera all night, some five hour extravaganza with fat men and women in helmets. It was Anna Daniels. Have you heard of her?"

Quinn, who had had to spend years cultivating an interest in the finer arts to show her face in the Hamptons, nodded.

"Jane got to meet her and her partner Charlie, short for Charlotte, so she was going on and on about them. They're married, of course." Santana pulled a face. "It's Jane's way of trying to wear me down."

"Is it working?" Quinn asked casually.

"Maybe," Santana replied, grinning.

**Rachel and Finn**

Finn pulled up outside a moderately-sized, well-kept two-storey house in one of the nicer parts of Lima. They weren't far from the Hudson-Hummels she reckoned. He got out of the car without a word, glanced in every direction and then walked around the hood to open the door for her.

"Thank you," she said quietly, delving into her memories for what used to be her excellent manners.

Finn outpaced her to the front door of the house, opening it and waiting for her to catch up. His apparent impatience spurred her into a trot. He closed the door quickly behind them.

Rachel didn't have much time to take in the house because the girl was descending the stairs, staring at her with some hostility.

"What's she doing her?" Ray demanded, not bothering to hide her antipathy.

Finn swung round. "Rachel Hudson, you will apologize right now!"

Both Rachels stared at him, paler than before. Ray shouted back, "The hell I will," and ran back up the stairs, ending her defiance with the slam of her bedroom door.

Finn turned to Rachel. "I'm sorry, my daughter doesn't usually," he paused to raise his voice so it would travel up the stairs, "act like a toddler!" He resumed normal volume to add, "I'll go talk to her."

As he mounted the first step, Rachel placed her hand on his arm.

"Leave her, Finn, give her a few minutes. I'm fine. Trust me, I've had worse."

"Yeah? Okay, well, she needs to come round soon because she'll be able to give you what you need for the night and stuff, so…" He trailed off, looking down at his feet.

"Maybe I could have a cup of tea or something," Rachel said.

"Yeah, sure," Finn said. "Where are my manners? This way."

Finn led Rachel to the kitchen and busied himself making her a cup of tea. He grabbed a bottle of beer out of the fridge and indicated the kitchen door. A little uncertain, she opened it. The house was surrounded by a porch. She followed it round to the front where there was a bench, a small table and a swinging chair. She giggled and leaped into the chair, nearly spilling her tea in the process. Finn watched and then settled on the bench, staring out intently at the darkness.

"What are you looking at?" she asked curiously.

"Nothing," Finn said, taking a sip of his beer and refusing to look at her.

Rachel wanted nothing more than to connect with this man but she didn't know how. She didn't think that the past was the way to go. It was too painful and riddled with too many mistakes to have to admit to before she was ready. She was searching desperately for a topic but Finn beat her to it.

"So," he said, "do you usually run around with a mob like that?"

Rachel laughed more in relief that the silence had ended than as any kind of acknowledgment that rampaging crowds were inherently amusing.

"No," she said. "My coterie is usually made up of minders, agents, hairdressers, make-up people, you know. It forms this wall that shields me."

And suffocates me, she thought. She didn't think Finn needed to hear the whinges of the rich and famous.

Finn stayed serious. "Kidnapping must be a worry."

Rachel dropped her head. "Yeah," she said softly, "it is, but I try not to think about it."

"You should," Finn said, becoming furious. "You must have been mad! What possessed you to come here without protection? Do you have any idea what could have happened? You were really being stupid!"

"And yet I'm fine," she said stubbornly, tired of being told off. "I'm here, I'm perfectly well," pausing as she remembered her things. "I'm down a Gucci bag, a few clothes, a pair of pyjamas and some product. I'll have them replaced tomorrow. And you don't get to call me stupid!"

Both were panting slightly and took sips of their drinks to collect themselves.

Rachel tried to explain. "The thing is-." She stopped and started again. "Most of them are fine. They'd never hurt me. They're either fans who just want a moment or a picture or an autograph, or they're photographers who are just trying to earn a living. Being a performer, it goes with the territory. I got comfortable with that a long time ago. They are just a problem when in an uncontrolled mass."

Finn grunted and took another sip of his beer. The silence stretched again and Rachel thought she heard a floorboard creak. She put it down to Finn sending her thoughts down scary places. She became doubly determined to brush off his concerns.

"There was one guy," Finn finally continued, "in that crowd, he didn't look right."

"Oh, that was Ben," Rachel said airily. "He's my number one stalker."

"Oh, for Christ's sake, Rachel, you have a stalker?" He turned his head to stare at her in horror.

"I have many stalkers," she said calmly, "he's just the most dangerous one."

Finn looked about to explode. His hand tightened so much on the bottle in his hand that she thought for sure that it would at the very least. She relented.

"Finn! It's okay. I have a restraining order out on him and I'll get my lawyer to report the breach tomorrow. He followed me or found out I was here and couldn't resist, I guess. He'll be back in jail soon enough. And he wouldn't hurt me either. He just, he just wants to take me somewhere private and do things to me that I really, _really_ don't want him to do."

She stole a glance at Finn, feeling a little thrilled that he was so concerned about her. He didn't look appeased although he had returned to staring out into the night. She wasn't sure if she imagined that he was doing it even more intently than before.

"How did they know you were here, that's what I don't get," Finn said after another long pause.

Rachel was sure she heard something this time, something like a gasp. Finn was starting to get her wound up and she looked around a little fearfully.

Finn didn't move but spoke out, raising his voice. "You know what they say about eavesdroppers."

Ray stepped onto porch, her head dropped in shame.

"Um," she started, "Rachel, I'm so, so sorry."

Rachel looked up at her, getting her first good look at Finn's progeny. Ray must have been nearly six foot, she thought, and she was stunning. Of course, she would be, Rachel thought ruefully, casting a sidelong glance at Finn's features. He was ignoring both of them to continue his sentinel.

"It's okay," Rachel said graciously, "I'd hate to have my home invaded by strangers too."

"N-No, not that," Ray stammered out clumsily, "I mean, yes, I'm sorry for that but…"

Ray trailed off, casting a pleading look at her dad for help. He refused to respond. Ray took a deep breath.

"It was me. I'm the one who alerted the press and sent the word out on the 'net after you sang. I wanted you to go away for…"

She trailed off, glancing at her dad before continuing.

"It's my fault that that stalker is here and-and I'm really, really sorry." She stayed standing but crumpled nonetheless. As she waited for the stroke of the guillotine, she was astonished to hear Rachel laugh.

"It wasn't you," Rachel said gently. "Ben lives in Fort Lauderdale so he's been tracking me on his own. As for the rest, well messages were going out from the minute I walked in. I wouldn't be surprised if I got spotted at the motel either. It's hard to put a baseball cap on when you've spent an hour on your hair. You would have been a drop in a might big ocean. Please, don't worry about it." She cast another look at Finn. "You've got your dad to do that for you."

Finn stood and walked over to his daughter. He kissed the top of her head and said, "Ray, maybe now you could take Rachel up to your room and sort her out something for tonight and tomorrow. She needs clothes and, you know, girl stuff."

Ray nodded sheepishly and gave her father a peck on the cheek. As Rachel followed Ray into the house, she looked back to see Finn return to his place on the bench.

**Mike and Tina**

As soon as she walked in the house, Tina twirled past Mike's outstretched arm and went to find the right music. A while ago, she had compiled a few selections with a view to making more of an effort to capitalize on the popularity of a revival of _Dancing with the Stars_ and attract more adults to their studio. With Mike and Tina coming from stage backgrounds, when they'd first started they had concentrated on teaching kids modern, tap and jazz, and the like, earning a reputation with parents, a reputation consolidated by their work with the glee club. During one of their business focus sessions, they'd decided to make a strong push to add an older market with ballroom and the collections were part of Tina's preparation.

People often believed, wrongly, that ballroom dancing was the exclusive realm of classical music. That wasn't true as avid watchers of dance programmes using modern music had proved. Tina's selection had to take account both of that fallacy and the fact that they deliberately wanted to appeal to older couples. She therefore focused on the second half of the twentieth century for music that would be nostalgic for the intended audience.

Mike followed her into the main room, having no idea what his wife was up to now. He'd been confounded all night but he recognised that she was restless and that he needed to do something to remind her that she was loved. That's why he'd suggested the dance to Will and Rachel. He watched her fiddle and then raised his eyebrows as the gentle strains of Patti Page's "Tennessee Waltz" filled the room.

Tina turned back to him, stepping into the arms he automatically held out in the closed position that begins every waltz. They danced, not taking their eyes off each other as they rose and fell to the 3/4 rhythm. Patti Page was replaced by the Commodores and the Eagles and they didn't pause, gliding around the room, around the house, losing themselves in the music and movement. It was Journey's "Open Arms" that gave them pause. They stood together, smiling up at each other at how the band continued to follow them in their lives. Mike bent his head to kiss his darling wife gently.

Tina wasn't interested in gentle. She opened her mouth wide, hungering for his tongue and his touch. Mike responded, increasing the pressure, his left arm pulling her hand down to behind her back so he could press her to him more intimately. She in turn trailed her right hand to the back of his neck, lightly but firmly encouraging his deep exploration of her mouth. They stood back after a couple of moments, regaining their breath.

The music was still playing and Tina started to dance to it on her own, singing along softly with the words. Mike folded himself down to a crouch to watch her. She gradually took over the vocal from the recording, ending the song in strong voice.

"Rachel Berry has nothing on you," Mike said, meaning it.

She looked down at her husband of twenty odd years, knowing it wasn't true but also knowing that he believed it was. She sank down to her knees, the skirt billowing around her and this time, she was gentle, nibbling softly at his lips. Mike reached around behind her to unzip the dress. The bodice fell away immediately revealing a corset that Mike never knew she had. He nearly did what since high school he'd called "a Finn" as he crushed her to him.

Hours later, naked and thirsty, Mike went to get them some water. The sexual gymnastics had moved from the lounge to the bedroom and both were sated with peaceful exhaustion. He came back with the water and his phone.

"Huh," Mike vocalised, looking closely at the tiny screen.

"What is it?" she asked curiously.

"It's a text from Puck. Rachel's throwing a brunch at the Wingate tomorrow for all the glee club members from her years."

He looked up at Tina. She was sprawled across the bed, her arms out flung, with a sheet covering only as far as her hips. She was squirming, her body luxuriating in the feel of the cool cotton on her hot skin. Her hair was draped over her breasts, moving as her body moved, showing brief glimpses of firm, dark nubs at their centre.

"Does it mean I have to get out of this bed before Monday?" She pouted.

Mike chuckled and with the exhaustion forgotten, he tossed the phone on the floor before throwing himself down and atop his beloved and very sexy wife.

**Rachel**

Rachel looked around Ray's room curiously as Ray fumbled through a drawer. Rachel spent most of her time in her New York apartment but she also had a big house in LA. She'd once tried to recreate her old bedroom in it in a fit of nostalgia. The effort had failed. It looked silly in a California mansion. Looking around her now, she realised that this was the first time she'd been in anything that approximated her old room in a long time.

"Ah ha!"

Rachel nearly jumped out of her skin at Ray's exuberant shout of triumph.

"I knew I still had them!"

She was waving a pair of pyjamas over her head. They looked like a child's and they were covered in little pink bunnies.

Hearing no response, Ray turned her head, worried that she'd offended Rachel. She saw Rachel's eyes were dark.

"Oh," said Ray, "I'm so sorry. Of course, they're terrible. You couldn't wear these! What was I thinking?"

Ray brought her arm down to toss the reprehensible garments to the corner of the room. Rachel rushed forward to still her.

"No, no," she cried. "They're perfect. I had a pair just like them when I was fourteen. Oh," she added, waving her hand in front of her eyes, "I've gone all misty-eyed."

"I was fourteen too," Ray said fondly, stroking them lightly. "They are still too big for you. I was kinda tall as a kid but they're the oldest pair I have."

Rachel, sensing that Ray was getting worried again, put her hand on the pyjamas, caught Ray's eyes and held them.

"They are perfect. Thank you."

Ray nodded quickly, feeling a little emotional herself at Rachel's sincerity.

Rachel took the pyjamas and ran to the bathroom to change. She emerged, carefully, a few minutes later, looking down at herself in mock dismay. She held out her arms and balanced on one leg kicking out with the other to show the result. The arms hung down over her hands. The legs of the pyjamas gave Rachel booties with three inches to spare.

They both burst out laughing, Rachel so hard that she nearly lost her balance.

After turning up the sleeves a few times, causing cuffs so thick that Rachel could feel the drag, Ray crouched down to do the same for the pyjama pant legs.

"Don't worry," said Rachel, "I can hold those up. I have to do it with dresses all the time."

She demonstrated, pulling up the legs from the side of each thigh with her hands. She started to parade around the room like a grand dame in a ballroom dress, nodding at imaginary dignitaries. Ray watched in amusement.

"It must be amazing," Ray said enviously, "all the parties and the people you meet."

Rachel thought about it for a moment before answering. "It can be," she said slowly, "but it can also be boring and you just want to run out and never stop running."

Rachel shrugged, settling down on the window seat in Ray's room.

"And of course," Ray added sadly, "you have to deal with stalkers and stuff."

"Sweetheart, it really wasn't your doing. Stop blaming yourself. Besides, I get that you were protecting your dad. I hurt him. You have every right to hate me."

"No," Ray said, shaking her head. "Uncle Kurt was right."

"Kurt? Kurt's not too happy with me," Rachel said, "and he's not wrong."

"Well, it's Granddad really. It's one of his sermons."

Rachel frowned, unable to follow Ray. She saw Rachel's confusion.

"Granddad has these little sermons, pieces of wisdom he likes to tell me. One of his favourites is that you can't hate someone you don't know, that you haven't earned the right. He says you have to know them first and then you can hate them if you want. He must have taught Uncle Kurt the same lesson because I-"

Ray paused with embarrassment.

"I told Uncle Kurt I hated you earlier today and he jumped down my throat about not knowing you."

"Ah," Rachel said. "So Kurt can hate me because he knows me but you can't." She smiled. "I think I can take comfort in that. Kurt's certainly earned the right."

"Why? What happened?" Ray knew she was being nosey but couldn't stop herself.

Rachel sighed. "I let a good friendship die. If I have any words of wisdom to share, it would be to keep your friends, whatever the cost. I wish I had."

Ray thought for a moment before saying quietly, "I don't know what went down between you and my dad and it's not my business and, for the record, I don't hate you but I don't want to see him hurt. So, whatever you're doing here, be careful, okay."

She looked up at Rachel with pleading eyes. Rachel could do nothing more than nod slowly.

Rachel looked out the window at the night sky to hide the welling of tears. It was a clear night so it was a star-filled view. Once she had control, she was able to enjoy it.

"Did you know that one of those stars is called 'Finn Hudson'? You can see it tonight."

Ray joined Rachel at the window, surprised. "Really?"

"Really," Rachel said softly. She pointed. "It's that one. I had an astronomer show me once so I'd know for sure."

"You did that, named the star, I mean?"

"No," Rachel replied, "your dad did that and whenever you need to, you can look up and know that he's always there for you and that he will always love you."

Ray said nothing but knew that Rachel wasn't talking about the "you" that was Finn's daughter. She gave Rachel a hug before making sure she had exactly the right star.

"So," Rachel said, feeling the need to lighten the mood, "you're eighteen now, any stars in your life?"

"How did you know I was eighteen? Dad told you?"

"No," Rachel tried to rush over her gaffe. Ray didn't need to know Rachel was at the hospital the day Ray was born and that it was a day burned in her memory. Nobody needed to know. "I guessed," she lied.

"Good guess."

Ray got up and started to pace her room.

"As for my stars…" She threw herself down on her bed before adding, "Why are men idiots?"

Rachel laughed. "By men, am I right in assuming one man?"

Ray let out a long, overly dramatic sigh.

"Pfftt, 'man,' that's what he thinks he is. That's the excuse he's been using for the last two years."

Rachel furrowed her brow.

"Ray, two years ago you were sixteen. If he was an adult then…"

"No, no," Ray objected quickly, "it's not like that. He's only three years older than me. It's not like he's a perv or anything."

Rachel was relieved. "So, he's what, twenty-one now?"

"Yeah. And he still won't get that we should be together. He's so damn stubborn!"

Rachel hid the smile that threatened.

"So who is this paragon of resistance to your wiles?"

"Jonathan Schuster."

Ray spat the name out like it was poison, getting angrier as she thought about him. Rachel raised an eyebrow at the name; Will's son, obviously.

"I'm eighteen now! I don't get what his problem is? I thought when he came back he'd finally… I just know what the excuse will be this time. He's going to be a doctor, he has to study, he doesn't have time…." She trailed off.

"Well, what does he actually say?" Rachel asked.

"What do you mean?" Ray said, confused.

"When you talked about it?"

Ray looked a little embarrassed. "Well, we haven't actually talked about it. Not properly. He still sees me as his little brother's best friend. He always has. Not that he admits it."

"Maybe you should talk to him. Tell him how you feel. Find out what he feels." Rachel sensed Ray's reluctance. "Sorry, I know it's not my business but for what it's worth, I learned a long time ago that you have to go after the things you want."

Ray sat up on the bed, considering this.

"You're right," she stated flatly. "I'm going to call him."

"Now?"

"Yeah," she said firmly, "now. I'm not sure when he's going back to Harvard."

"Okay," said Rachel, hoping she hadn't unleashed a hurricane, "I'll give you your privacy."

Rachel lifted the pyjama legs and made her way to the door. She looked back at Ray, now staring at her phone.

"Good luck, Rachel Hudson."

Ray looked up, "You too, Rachel Berry."

**Kurt and Puck**

The Hudson-Hummel residence was in uproar. Kurt and Puck arrived back with Sam and Blaine and Carole had declared herself under siege. In her sixties now, she had been enjoying the peace of having her home to herself and Burt after years of raising Finn and Kurt, and later, for much of her childhood when her dad was overseas, Ray. Puck was the occasional, well actually, pretty regular interloper to this nirvana of tranquillity, but manageable and gave the Hudson-Hummels the opportunity to proffer gentle marriage counselling. This madhouse was something else entirely.

She was somewhat reassured that Blaine would be staying at his parents' house and had only come by to torture George, a favourite occupation of her stepson's first boyfriend and only other serious relationship. She found the three of them in the den, working out how to make the couch comfortable for Sam. Their current topic on which to bicker was hair. Blaine was extolling the virtues of having luxurious curly locks through which a guy could run his hands with George remarking on the nastiness of gel on hands that needed to go elsewhere. She exited quickly, not wanting to hear more, but not before exchanging a smile with Kurt, who rolled his eyes at the antics the men he's chosen in his life.

Carole knew they wouldn't be able to make the couch in the den work. It was too small. Burt was in the garage, trying to find an old fold-out bed he'd insisted they still had. Carole was pretty sure that they'd given it away a long time ago but didn't stop his determined efforts, just in case he could pull off a miracle. She made her way to the kitchen where Sam and Puck were polishing off the last of the brownies she'd made earlier in the day.

"Mrs. H," Sam said, "honestly, I can go to a motel or something."

"No, no," Carole said, harassed but firm, "I won't hear of it, Sam. Not that it wouldn't help if some people wouldn't go home to their _wives_."

She glared at Puck who shuffled uncomfortably.

"I would, Mrs. H," Puck pleaded, "but I kind of had too many beers, so…"

Carole snorted and grabbed the empty plate to add to the dishwasher. Kurt, George and Blaine joined them in the kitchen, filling the room.

Kurt said with finality, "We can't do it. There's no way to make that couch into anything that resembles a bed."

"I have a great idea, Carole," Blaine announced. "Kurt can stay at my parents' place. That will free up a bed."

George said sarcastically, "Yeah, great idea. I could get to know Sam better."

Sam, not familiar with their banter or recognising the sarcasm, widened his eyes like a rabbit in headlights. Kurt put a comforting hand on his shoulder and shook his head.

Carole sighed, knowing that Blaine was just being mischievous. She giggled to herself that it would serve them all right if Blaine's bluff was called. The more she thought about it though, the more she saw a solution that could work.

"Blaine," she said sweetly, "that's a great idea."

Kurt and George threw horrified glances at her which she ignored.

"But rather than take Kurt," she went on, "will you take Puck instead please? That way, Sam can have the second guest room. Sam needs stuff we can find for him here, like some of Finn's old things. Puck's bag is packed and ready to go as he was going home tomorrow. Right, Puck?"

Puck was startled by the turn of events but took the hint.

"Sure, Mrs. H," he said meekly.

Blaine was just as flummoxed at a situation much of his own making. He was just joking but he saw that it made sense and he wasn't ungenerous.

"Absolutely, Carole," he said. "Puck, you can watch my latest show."

Puck didn't seem thrilled at the prospect. In fact, her immediate panic over, Carole observed that Puck seemed unusually reserved and realised that he had been since they'd arrived back.

"Okay," Carole commanded, "everybody out. Go watch TV or something. Kurt, can you go tell your father that he can stop searching the garage now and that he doesn't have to admit he was wrong?"

The men filed out of the kitchen. Puck was last and Carole put a hand on his arm.

"Are you okay, Puck? You seem a little quiet."

"Yeah," said Puck, "I'm fine, it's just…" He tailed off.

Carole pointed to the table, gesturing that he should sit down. She poured Puck and herself coffee and joined him at the table.

"What's going on?"

"Quinn was there."

"Quinn Fabray? That's okay, isn't it? You and Quinn always got on, you even had a-" She stopped as realisation set in. "Oh. Did something happen with Beth?"

"No," he said. "Beth couldn't make it but she'll be here tomorrow."

Puck looked up at Carole with bewildered eyes.

"Thing is," he said, "I don't know what to do. Beth wants to meet Quinn, she's just scared to tell Shelby, and Quinn, Quinn is…" he paused, searching for the right word, "confusing."

Puck relayed the events of the night before continuing on.

"I could get them together. I just don't know if I should. I can't talk to Shelby without breaking Beth's confidence. As for Quinn, I don't know what she wants, you know?"

Carole nodded and thought for a moment. Puck had never obtained any legal standing over Beth but when he married Shelby, he was every bit the father to her. The marriage had ended amicably and Shelby, who had every intention of letting Puck have access to his biological daughter anyway, had even more reason to let the relationship between father and daughter continue and grow. They explained to Beth early that Puck was her biological dad and he was present for all the birthdays and big moments in her life.

"Have you talked to Beth?" Carole asked.

"No," Puck said, shaking his head. "What if Quinn refuses to see her? I don't want to hurt Beth."

"So it depends on Quinn?"

"Yeah," he said, "I suppose it does. I should call her, right? Get a straight answer?"

"Might be a start," Carole agreed. "The den's empty now. Use the phone in there. I'll make sure no one disturbs you."

Puck got up slowly and started out of the kitchen.

"Thanks, Mom."

Carole watched him go. Puck's mother had died ten years before and she was used to standing in locus parentis with him sometimes. It doesn't make it any the less touching, she thought, wiping away whatever it was that had gotten in her eye.

**Rachel and Finn**

Rachel paid attention as she descended the stairs. Maybe she should roll up the legs, she thought. She was going to break her neck if she wasn't careful. Once at the bottom, she glanced through the window out to the porch. She couldn't see Finn but she could see a thin trail of smoke. She marched indignantly onto the porch as well as she could while holding up the legs of the pyjamas.

"You're smoking! That's disgusting."

Finn turned his head and took in the ridiculous sight of Rachel Berry, superstar, dressed in pink bunny pyjamas that were way too big for her. She'd dropped her hold on the legs so she could place them on her hips. He grinned. Rachel was not pleased.

"Finn! That's a terrible habit! It will kill you!"

Her voice cracked a little at the last one. Finn put out the cigarette, returned to his vigil and sighed.

"You sound just like Ray. And Kurt. And my mom."

"Well, they're right," she said stubbornly. She picked up the legs again and planted herself with greater confidence on the swinging chair, despite having to drop the legs again to do it.

"I thought you were going to bed," he said wearily.

"I was but not if you're going to sit out here and give yourself cancer when I'm gone."

Finn didn't argue and they shared the silence for a few minutes. Rachel still didn't know how to play this. To her mind, there were no impediments any more to their at least not being friends and if they could be friends again, maybe they could be more. She just had to work out how.

Her plotting was interrupted when Ray joined them. She was wearing a coat and carrying a small bag.

"Where do you think you're going," said Finn.

"I'm spending the night at the Schuster's," she said, casually, "Will said it was all right. I'm sleeping in Judy's room."

"You are not," Finn said firmly.

"Dad, I love you to pieces but I'm eighteen, you know Will and Emma will be there and that I'll be perfectly safe and that you have no reason to object."

"You may be eighteen," Finn said, "but my house, my rules."

Ray laughed. She ran over to him and kissed him on the forehead.

"I love it when you cliché."

"Ray, I'm serious. I don't want you going out tonight."

Rachel decided to ignore the fear that Finn was more concerned at being left alone with her than his daughter's plans. Ray, in the meantime, continued to fight her corner. She crouched down in front of her father.

"Dad, I have to thrash it out with Jonathan. I can't have him go back to Harvard without knowing how I feel. I've realised," she paused as she stole a glance at Rachel, "I've realised that we've never really talked about our feelings and that we need to."

Finn, catching the glance, remained unconvinced.

"Dad," Ray urged her voice low and intense. "This is important."

Finn stared at her for a moment before accepting that he was beaten. He nodded reluctantly. Ray kissed him again, more solemnly this time, before rising and running to her car.

"Bye Rachel," she yelled.

Finn and Rachel watched her pull out and drive away.

"Kids!" Finn spat out.

Rachel burst out laughing. Finn swung his head round furiously to glare at her, but as she laughed, he couldn't maintain his irritation. He started laughing too.

"You're a great dad," she said when she finally stopped.

"I'm a terrible dad," he said ruefully. "She gets her own way far too often."

"That's what good dads are for. I have two of them. I'm an expert."

Some of the ice that the two of them had been busy erecting finally breaking, Rachel took advantage. She started to tell Finn about her career. She skimmed over her earliest days and didn't mention Jesse but she told him about winning her first Tony and how scary it was making her first movie. She told him juicy gossip and anecdotes about some of the famous people she'd worked with and met. She glowed when she described meeting Barbra the first time and of what it was like singing with her.

In turn, Finn told her about the army, about helicopters and flying, the thrill of it. He told her the worries he'd had raising Ray when he was away so much, leaving her with his parents and how much of her childhood he regretted missing. He described life as the manager of a healthy business after he retired from the military, but how sometimes, he still yearned to fly.

After some time passed of easy conversation, Rachel leaned back with a semi-contented sigh, setting the seat rocking gently.

You can't relax completely, she warned herself, for now comes the hard part.

**Brittany**

"You have to come."

Brittany was naked. She had been in the middle of changing for bed when she remembered that partners were invited to the brunch. She'd grabbed her phone and was now trying to negotiate pleading her case, holding the phone and trying to find her nightwear, all at the same time. She was not succeeding well at any of those three things. For a talented dancer, Brittany was something of a klutz.

Brittany dropped the phone for the third time when Lady Penelope, a large cat dyed pink, rubbed herself on Brittany's bare leg. The dye job had been a total accident but Brittany had been delighted at the results.

"Lady Penelope," Brittany crooned, distracted again as a complaining voice faded away under the pillow by which the phone had landed. She picked up the cat, stroking her gently as she scolded.

"You were very naughty today, Lady Penelope. It is not appropriate for you to use the bathtub as-"

Brittany remembered the call and dropped the cat, looking for the phone. As she raised it to her ear, she continued as if there had never been an interruption.

"Besides," she argued, "You'll get to meet all of them. They were all there tonight! Can you believe it?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Brittany saw Lady Penelope padding on a garment on the floor.

"Oh," she yelled in the phone, "Lady Penelope found my nightie."

Brittany flung down the phone again to give Lady Penelope a cuddle. She grabbed the nightie and threw it over her head before returning her attention to her phone.

"Anyway, you'll come, right?"

**Rachel and Finn**

She didn't know if he was being obtuse or if he doing it deliberately but it seemed that every time Rachel tried to steer the conversation round to more personal territory or their feelings, Finn blocked her efforts. He never cut her off or refused to respond but he somehow seemed to always steer it back to safer waters. She knew Finn was smarter than he'd ever given himself credit for but this had a subtly and skill that was, frankly, pretty impressive if it was deliberate.

Rachel was, however, becoming impatient and having been pampered for years, she wasn't used to that emotion.

"What are you doing, anyway? What is so interesting about out there?" She threw her arm forward, indicating the dark before them.

"I was worried the paps may have tracked us here, that's all."

"And sitting outside doesn't guarantee it," she asked sarcastically.

Finn glanced at her. "The porch light isn't on. The house lights don't reach this far. We're invisible in the dark."

Rachel still wasn't satisfied, wanting to goad him into something, anything.

"And why would the paps have found us. They didn't follow us. You made sure of that as my stomach can attest."

The drive from where they parked to talk to Carole after the Wingate had been filled with speedy twists and turns, much like the drive from the school.

Finn hesitated before responding.

"Um, well, some of those guys were local. They might have recognised me and they know where I live."

Rachel's mouth gaped open and Finn laughed.

"Yeah, nothing like in your league, I know, but I am a bit of a local celebrity."

Rachel didn't know how to ask why without sounding rude. Finn watched her struggle before rescuing her from the conundrum by explaining.

"I, um," he said, "I came home with a Medal of Honour, after my final tour. The town, they, uh, kind of made a big deal of it."

"A Medal of Honour? I thought you had to be dead to get one of those."

"No," Finn said gravely, "although guys died."

"Finn, I know about this, I know that you don't get the Medal of Honour unless-"

She hated her thoughts.

"Oh no, you were hurt!"

Her eyes flew to his face, his arms, his chest, his legs. Everything was there. With a horror she couldn't disguise, they flew to his crotch.

"Rachel!" Finn was flustered. "I'm fine. I recovered. Everything's in working order."

His dignity forced him to repeat emphatically, "Everything!"

Rachel breathed an audible sigh of relief, sinking back into the chair.

She watched Finn, hoping this might be the opening she wanted. Instead, she thought she could see his mind desperately seeking a way out of dangerous territory. She wasn't surprised that he came back to talking about her. She knew herself well enough, as he did, to know that usually worked.

"You know, I saw you at the Inauguration last year."

Rachel looked up and said, "You mean on TV?"

He shook his head. "No, Ray and I were there; one of the perks of the medal. Ray was pretty enthusiastic about the guy and had campaigned for him, even though she couldn't vote. Idealistic fifteen-year-olds reckon they have politics all worked out, you know? She really wanted to go, so we did."

Rachel nodded, recalling the day. She'd been honoured to be asked and she'd met the President a few times now, having been invited since to perform at events where he was present. During his campaign, he'd declared her to be his favourite singer.

"You were brilliant, of course," Finn added, taking a sip of the same beer he'd been nursing since they got to the house.

It had been an amazing experience, a rare one where she wasn't the centre of attention and could lean back and watch others. She remembered casting her vision over the crowd on the podium. She remembered being startled by a tall couple whose faces she couldn't quite see. It wasn't that they were tall that startled her. It was that her stomach had flown into her throat when she did. At the time, she'd dismissed it as daydreaming. She'd learned long ago that not every tall guy was Finn Hudson and exercised active self-discipline to stop expecting them to be. She thought she'd lapsed in the excitement of the occasion.

"I saw you," she said softly.

He looked over at her, disbelieving.

"I saw you," she repeated. "I didn't know it was you, I-I couldn't see your face but I felt you, I thought it was wishful thinking…"

Rachel was tired. Most of all she was tired of holding back. She jumped off the swing seat, forgetting about the legs of the pyjamas. She stumbled forward and would have gone sprawling if Finn hadn't grabbed her.

She nearly fainted at the feeling of his arms around her again.

"Finn," she said, looking up at him. "I-"

Finn shook his head and settled her back on her feet, holding her as far away as his arms would stretch. He resumed his place on the bench.

"Finn!"

"I can't, Rachel. Not again. Go to bed. I'll see you in the morning."

Rachel stared at him. He refused to look at her. She picked up the legs of the pyjamas and retreated sadly into the house.

**Artie**

When they arrived home, Artie's mom insisted they join her for snacks. Artie rolled his eyes at Gail who, still fiddling with the camera, didn't see it. Frowning at how useless a back-up she was proving to be, he didn't argue with his mother, forcing yet more food into his protesting stomach. He'd be back in Toledo soon enough and could book some extra sessions at the gym.

Artie's mother wanted to hear all about the reunion, so Artie regaled her with the tales of terror the evening had wrought. She was appalled on her son's behalf at his imprisonment and talked about suing Sue. Artie joked that only a fool would sue a Sue.

Gail was so intent on her camera that she jumped when Artie yelled her name. She didn't register that it was his second attempt.

"Yo," she said.

"I was saying that we might be able to show Mom some of the footage from tonight. Maybe some of the performances I missed," he added accusingly.

"Sure," she said placidly, "I'll sort something out. You got something to show it on?"

"Can't we just connect that camera to the TV?" Artie said, knowing it was possible.

"We could," she agreed, "but I'd be able to carry on working on the footage I have if I transfer what you want to another."

"There's a spare camera in the car," Artie said with a shrug, not wanting to argue about why she wanted to carry on working tonight. The temperaments of artists were never worth getting tangled with.

Within the hour, Gail had cut together a suitable revue for Artie's mom which they shared while Gail continued working on the table behind them. Artie had no idea that she was still filming and would have demanded to know why if he had. Gail smiled to herself.

**Finn**

Rachel had been in the guest room an hour when Finn finally decided to quit his vigil. There was no sign of anyone there shouldn't be and it seemed unlikely that anyone would turn up now. He needed to get some sleep. Tomorrow, or more accurately later today, was going to be no easier. He locked up the house carefully, went up to his room and stepped into the shower, exhausted.

He'd been holding himself so tightly for so many hours that his muscles screamed as the hot water pummelled the back of his neck and shoulders. She wanted him again, that much was clear. It would be so easy to fall back in love with her. He wouldn't have to fall at all. He'd never been out of love with her, not since high school, and that was never going to change. He could surrender. Just thinking of her now resulted in familiar stirrings in his groin. He glared at the offending part of himself. He'd literally been up and down all night. There had been more than one reason to stay firmly planted on that damn bench.

He felt indignant again that she thought, even for a second, that he was no longer a man. He glanced down at himself, pleased to note the wilting response to that idea. He turned up the cold, leaned on palms placed high on the wall, and let the shower do the rest.

Clean, he put on his pyjama bottoms. Finn had never bothered with the tops and wasn't even sure where any of them were. He was about to get into bed when he realised how thirsty he was. Over eight hours, one beer at the reunion and one at home which he'd nursed so long that the last sip was flat was dangerously close to dehydration territory. He walked quietly down to the kitchen.

Letting the cold water run a little, Finn knew he was right. There were so many reasons not to let Rachel back into his life. He couldn't control the fact that she would never be out of his head, but at least he was master of his life. Finn filled the glass, drank it down quickly and refilled it before turning off the tap. He turned. She was there at the door. She'd ditched the pyjama bottoms although the top was long enough to cover her modesty. That didn't stop the sight of her from hitting Finn like a knife blade in the gut.

The glass slipped from his hand and shattered.


	8. Chapter 8: In the Midnight Hour

**Chapter Eight: In the Midnight Hour**

_I'm gonna wait 'til the midnight hour_

_That's when my love comes tumbling down_

_I'm gonna wait 'til the midnight hour_

_When there's no one else around_

**Finn**

Finn stared down stupidly at the shattered glass, shards still skittering across the fake marble tiles. He sensed rather than saw Rachel start to move towards him. Without looking up, he held out his hand, his palm foremost.

"Stop!"

"Finn, I-"

"There's glass everywhere, Rachel. You'll cut your feet."

"What about your feet?" she asked, taking the step forward anyway.

"Stay there!"

The command was delivered with a force that brooked no argument, even from Rachel. She reversed her step and resumed leaning against the door jamb, watching him. His feet firmly planted, he stretched his torso as he attempted to open the door of a large cupboard, just out of his reach. Rachel's eyes narrowed and darkened. His body had lost the softness it had in high school. His arms, chest and abdomen were firm and the muscles were well defined. His effort to reach the cupboard caused those muscles to distend and ripple. It also emphasized the scar Finn bore on his left side, evidence of a large tear that extended around to his back, as if a shark had taken a bite out of him. Finn felt her gaze when at the extremity of his reach and nearly toppled over. He straightened up.

"Go back to bed, Rachel. I've got this."

He desperately wanted her to leave and it was hard to avoid glancing at her. He was terrified that he wouldn't be able to hide the effect the sight of Rachel standing there watching him with her legs bare was having on him. The effect of the cold shower was running a poor second. He was about to walk over the glass, cuts be damned and possibly useful, when she spoke.

"May I at least ask a question?"

Finn looked up in resignation.

"Sure."

"Where are your slippers?"

Finn hesitated. It made sense, of course, but it meant sending her to his bedroom and it meant her continued company. He glanced at the cupboard door and at the shard-peppered floor. He sighed.

"They are in my bedroom, last room down the hall. They should be by my bed somewhere."

Rachel spun round and sprinted from the doorway. Finn counted his breaths, making them slow and deep, until she returned. It wasn't long before he heard her come back to the door. He hastily resumed studying the floor.

"Throw them over to me."

She ignored him, stepping into the kitchen.

"Rachel!"

He heard before he saw that Rachel had recovered not just his slippers, but her shoes. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry to see Rachel in six inch heels heading towards him. He could hear shards of glass being crushed and ground into the tiles under her steps and winced.

She marched forward and held out the slippers.

"Thanks," he said, taking them and quickly slipping them on. "And now if you don't mind…"

Rachel squealed as Finn grabbed her at the waist with both hands and lifted her bodily, sitting her on the kitchen counter. Rachel was outraged.

"What the hel-"

"Your heels, they're making things worse." Finn wasn't sure if he was referring to the floor or the way the heels made her shapely legs even shapelier. He pushed the thought away with grim determination.

He turned to the cupboard, got the broom, and started to sweep up the glass.

**Rachel**

On her cold granite perch, Rachel pouted but didn't argue. Instead she resumed her own studious examination of his body. She'd lain on top of the guest room bed for an hour, sleep impossible. One of the many thoughts and visions swirling in her head was Finn's body, how and if it had changed. She was going to make the most of this ring-side seat.

As he worked, Rachel got a better look at the scar. It did indeed extend around his back, ending about halfway between his side and his spine. In length, it ran from just under the end of his shoulder blade to his waist. Her idea about the shark wasn't far off, she reflected. It was more comfortable than trying to imagine the horror that had actually caused it and the pain he must have suffered, but with that thought came her curiosity.

"Tell me about the scar."

Finn paused in his task but didn't look at her. He resumed sweeping slowly before responding.

"Nothing to tell. I caught a grenade. I was luckier than some."

Rachel frowned. He'd told her he was a pilot. She didn't know how a pilot would come across a grenade. They were in the air, weren't they? She waited, expecting more, and was disappointed when he didn't continue. She sighed. She'd thought that they had broken down some of the barriers but she was losing faith that talking was going to achieve anything. She needed a new strategy.

She set her mind to work again with a fury that was unconsciously mirrored by her legs, swinging as they dangled from the edge of the kitchen worktop. The problem was that she'd never had a proper relationship with anyone except Finn. After she was persuaded that Finn was gone, she threw herself into her work and ignored the many requests she had for dates. That there'd be plenty of time later was a conviction that she made her mantra. After her abortive trip to Lima in 2016, it all changed. She threw herself into dating but by then, she was already famous. The guys who were interested were interested in more than her, if her at all. They were attracted to her fame, her money, or to the things that she could do for them. After a particularly galling example proving the phenomena, one which left her a little poorer and a lot wiser, she had quit trying to find somebody to love, cultivating handsome and amusing men for sex or entertainment when she wanted them or for photo ops when her manager said she needed them.

Rachel had never been a siren. She'd never had that sort of confidence. But when confidence grows from a world declaring you a sex goddess in pages of print, it was amazing what a woman could learn from casual affairs with erudite and creative men. She learned well, or at least, she'd been led to believe she had. With flattery and sycophancy inherent in any of these partners, she couldn't be absolutely certain. One thing she did know though with certainty. She knew that she had the skills to seduce Finn Hudson, even when he was being a stubborn jackass.

Finn was finishing up with the broom, crouched as he checked under cupboards with a small brush for any stray pieces. He wasn't far from her. Without any perceptible increase in pace or extension of her gently swinging legs, she managed to kick him accidentally in the head.

"Hey!"

Finn shot up, glaring at her. Rachel was satisfied to note that he was already showing firm signs of how susceptible he was to her. Rachel adopted an embarrassed and contrite demeanour.

"Oh! I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he said, looking at her suspiciously before examining the floor. "I think we're done," he continued, adding the final pieces of glass to the pile on the sheet of newspaper on the floor. He wrapped the newspaper carefully and put it in the garbage.

"So, you'll want to come down now."

Rachel didn't want to jump down so she made her eyes wide and looked down at the floor helplessly. Finn was stuck. He walked towards her and stood in front of her. Rachel waited until he'd placed his hands on her waist.

"Stop!"

Rachel slapped her hands on top of his, applying a little pressure so his hands sunk deeper into her sides. She held them there until he pulled his hands away.

"What?"

"My heels. I don't want to mark up your floor although I don't recall you being this house proud when you lived at your mom's."

"It doesn't matter," he said impatiently.

"Yes, of course it does," she replied, allowing no argument.

He stepped back, looking helplessly down at her feet. She knew he was wondering if he was supposed to be taking them off. He wasn't but she wasn't going to be kicking them off her feet either.

Keeping her legs tightly together, she raised her right leg out straight out front of her and bent forward.

"Thank God for yoga," she thought as she ran her hands down her leg to reach her ankle. She kept her gaze on her hands and her shoe but in the corner of her eye, she could see enough of Finn to know that this was having the desired effect on him. She removed her right shoe and let it drop it to the floor. She spent a little longer doing the same with the left shoe. Finn was breathing hard.

"Okay," she said brightly, throwing her arms wide.

Finn didn't move. Rachel pouted her best pout, the lower lip extended and slightly trembling.

"A little help here?" she asked softly.

Finn stared at her and she cursed his emotional intuition, particularly as it applied to her. He knew exactly what she was doing, that this was a performance. He was furious. She wilted a little at the condemnation that lurked behind his blazing eyes, her confidence draining.

"Finn…"

Finn stepped forward, grabbing her waist. He pulled her to him hard, making her gasp.

"Is this what you want Rachel?" he said, angry.

Rachel felt him between her legs. She threw caution to the wind.

"Yes," she shouted, wrapping her legs around his hips.

"And this?"

He moved his hands to grab her by her arms. He bent down and smashed his mouth against hers, forcing his tongue past her lips and teeth before she had the chance to open her mouth. His tongue snaked so far down her throat that she might have choked had she not given her answer by invading his mouth with equal vigour.

It was some time before his rage subsided but Rachel felt it as soon as it did. His hands went around her back, pulling her closer to his chest as the kiss became a little gentler, the tongues slowed and their stabbing turned to caressing. Rachel's arms free, she reached out and placed her palms on his sides, sliding them down as far as she could while retaining her grip of him with her legs. She felt the rough skin of his scar and stroked gently.

Finn broke off the kiss and lifted his head, mouth gaping and closed his eyes. He was beyond control, she knew that. He wouldn't stop it now. She could take her time. Problem was, she was out of control too. Unwrapping her legs, she let her hands trail down his sides until they reached the top of his pyjamas. She eased them down. She touched him gently, heard his gasp and bent down to take him in her mouth.

Finn's eyes flew open. He shifted, forcing her head up with one hand under her chin before sliding it over her breasts and around her back to join the other. He grabbed her ass and entered her in one powerful thrust.

Rachel wrapped her legs around him again, thrusting back just as hard. One of Finn's hands slide up to the middle of her back, pulling at the pyjama top until the buttons popped and flew around the kitchen. Her breasts free to the air, Rachel ground herself into his chest.

Finn came with deep guttural sounds that sounded suspiciously like sobs. Rachel, on the brink, tried to pull back but he held her, letting her continue to grind. The hand on her ass moved, stroking her in a place she'd never allowed herself to be stroked before. When his thumb sought the barest intrusion, she erupted with a cry of victory.

**Finn**

Finn stood at the counter, continuing to hold her as her shudders died away. When she was finally still, he eased her away and them apart. Suddenly unsteady on his feet, he rested his shaking hands on the surface, one on each side of her. Rachel's head was thrown back. The pyjama top was gaping opening, her breasts gently rising and falling with her panting. Her legs were still apart and he could see the liquid oozing from her. Finn dropped his head and closed his eyes.

He felt her hand on his cheek. He opened his eyes and she was staring into them. Her triumph had turned to concern. He must be pale, he thought.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly.

"No," he said. It was barely a whisper but definitive.

Rachel blinked in surprise and her eyes widened. Finn straightened, took her waist, and lifted her off the counter and onto the floor. He pulled up his pyjamas and turned his back to her.

"Finn?"

"You got what you wanted, Rachel. Go get some sleep."

"No! I won't. That was the best sex I've ever had and I'll bet my life that it was the same for you. I'm not letting you turn your back on this, on us!"

"Don't you get it," Finn said, whirling around. "There is no us. There can't be, not any more. You've got your life in New York and Hollywood. I've got a daughter I have very little time left with who deserves every moment of it. I've got people whose jobs depend on me. I'm a Lima loser, Rachel, I always have been. You never understood that. You belong there, I belong here. That will always pull us apart and I can't-I can't-," he gasped, "I _won't_ go through that again!"

Finn was shocked enough by his own vehemence but he saw that Rachel was equally devastated by his conviction. Tears were pouring down her cheeks. He had to will himself not to gather her up in his arms. He turned his back to her again.

He heard her pick up her shoes and walk out of the kitchen. When he heard the guest room door upstairs close, Finn Hudson sank to the floor and wept.

**Rachel**

Rachel was numb when she closed the door of her room. She was clutching the pyjama top around her as if it were a life jacket. She glanced down and noted that the buttons were missing. She'd have to do something about that, she thought randomly.

Rachel went to the guest room's small bathroom suite where there was a shower. She ran the water and, shedding the top, she stepped into the cubicle. She stood under the running water for a good ten minutes, doing nothing. Finally, she picked up the soap and started to wash herself. Her hand shook as she reached the top of her inner thighs, the area still sensitive and throbbing.

Cleaner, if not refreshed, Rachel put the pyjama top back on and sat on the bed.

Should she give up?

Inside her mind, the two Rachel's appeared. She wasn't crazy, or at least she didn't think she was, but in times of stress, they often made an appearance. One was the old Rachel, the girl she'd been in high school who wanted love and friends but had a burning ambition to make it on Broadway. The other was diva Rachel, the one who got what she wanted when she wanted it and would throw tantrums when she was thwarted. They would argue and the inner Rachel, the real Rachel would lay back and let them, watching lazily from a distance as they fought it out.

The two Rachels were warring now. Old Rachel was advocating that she run to his arms, tell him she would give up her career, give up everything for him, and beg him to take her back. Diva Rachel was wondering who the hell Finn Hudson was to be rejecting the hottest piece of ass on the planet with a heart that was bigger. Neither would work on Finn. Old Rachel's plan had failed once before as she learned sitting in a car in Lima. Finn wouldn't let her, or rather wouldn't allow himself to be the cause of her stemming her ambitions. Diva Rachel didn't have a plan, just a demand, a demand that Finn wouldn't respect and that Rachel would hate if he did.

She lay back on the bed, drawing her knees into her chest. Two Rachels, three Rachels, four. She'd forgotten there was another one in the house. Ray was a Rachel. She hoped her evening was turning out better.

Rachel shot up. Ray. What did Finn say? That he didn't have much time with her? That was nonsense! Rachel had told Finn that she was an expert on dads and she knew that dads didn't stop spending time with their daughters as they matured. Her own dads were proof of that and she knew Finn wouldn't step out of his daughter's life, ever.

It was an excuse.

Rachel considered changing into her dress or into the shorts and t-shirt Ray had found for her to wear in the morning, but she was too impatient now. She wrapped the pyjama top around her and marched to Finn's room, barging in. She wasn't going to give him the opportunity to deny her entry.

He was sitting on his bed. He looked up at her in dismay. She ignored the silent plea to leave him alone.

"Tell me how you got your Medal of Honour."

Finn frowned.

"I told you. I got in the way of a grenade."

She continued staring at him, tapping her foot.

He sighed, "I may have thrown myself on top of it to stop it from hurting some guys who were already injured. I used a piece of my downed chopper to try and divert the blast and I was lucky that it was a faulty grenade. It didn't go off with the force it should have."

"The scar is from that?"

"Yes. Why do you want to know this stuff?"

"Because you're making excuses not to be with me and I want to know why." She continued relentlessly. "Why did you leave the Army?"

"What? Why did I leave-" He paused to run his hand through his hair. "I'd done twenty years. I'd made the Hudson name one the army could be proud of. I nearly got killed. I wanted to have more time with Ray."

Rachel stared at him, willing the tears not to come.

"Are you dying?"

"What?" Finn leapt to his feet and stared at her incredulously.

"Is there-is there something about your injury, that injury," she stammered, pointing at the scar," or some other injury that means you're dying or is it cancer or-?"

She stopped, unable to continue.

Finn shook his head at her, totally befuddled.

"Rachel, I'm not dying. I'm fine. I told you."

"Is Ray?" she asked, dreading the answer.

"No! Don't even-"

"I'm sorry," she screamed in frustration, "you're not telling me everything! I know it! What are you holding back?"

Rachel stared at him defiantly. He held the stare for a moment before he looked away. He sank back down onto the bed, staring at a spot on the floor.

"There have been three women in my life. They all left me, cheated on me, whatever, including the one I didn't even love but married. I can't be with anyone, Rachel. My heart shrivelled up a long time ago."

Rachel walked over to him and stood before him. He wouldn't look at her. She reached out and stroked his hair with her hand. She crouched down, forcing herself into his line of vision, her hand trailing down to his cheek.

"That's self-pity and defensiveness talking and not the Finn Hudson I once knew. I love you with all my heart, all my soul and all my body." She slipped the pyjama top off her shoulders and it fell to the floor. "I promise you that whatever happened in the past and whatever happens in the future, that has never and will never change. I'm not going to give up. We could have a future but you need to get over your fear of it failing. What was the motto you said you had in the army? 'Night Stalkers don't quit.'"

His eyes narrowed but he didn't look at her. He took a breath and whispered.

"Then there are the people left behind if we-if I go off with you. They're too important and they need me. Please understand.

She stood up.

"There are days burned in my memory," she said, looking down at his bowed head "but none is clearer than the day you took me to the train station instead of our wedding and asked me to surrender. You told me we should let the universe do its thing and that if we were meant to be together, we'd be together. So, I surrendered. We let the universe do its thing and it parted us. It blessed us. I got to be a star. You got back the Hudson family honour and you got Ray."

Finn didn't move. Rachel took a moment to choke back the sobs that were threatening. Tears would get in the way. She continued on.

"But the universe will always be doing its thing. At this moment, its thing is you and me, here, alone, together again. We just have to reach out and take it. I get that you can't trust me right now but we put our trust in the universe then. _We_ can trust it again."

Finn didn't react, staring at the same spot on the floor. Rachel's shoulders sagged and she walked slowly from the side of the bed, still naked. She didn't need to look back to know that Finn wasn't watching her. At the bedroom's door, she didn't turn. She stared into the dark hallway as she took her last shot before returning to the guest room.

"I'm asking you to surrender, Finn. It's your turn."


	9. Chapter 9: Sunday Morning

**Chapter Nine: Sunday Morning**

_Sunday morning, praise the dawning_

_It's just a restless feeling by my side_

_Early dawning, Sunday morning_

_It's just the wasted years so close behind_

**Quinn and Joe**

Reception called at 7am on the dot to say that Quinn had a visitor. Quinn hadn't forgotten that Joe was coming. She had however found it hard to get up, her head heavy. She told the receptionist to ask Joe to wait on the breakfast terrace and that she would be down shortly.

Quinn raced to dress quickly, foregoing a shower by splashing water on her face. It was no more than ten minutes before she was scanning the terrace and saw Joe looking out over the grounds of the hotel.

"Joe," she said apologetically, "I'm so sorry I wasn't down to receive you."

"No problem," he said, returning her hug.

"And I suppose I should call you the Reverend Hart."

"I'll be most disappointed if you do," he said, smiling.

Quinn indicated a table along the terrace and they sat down. After ordering breakfast, a light one for each of them, and taking their first sips of orange juice, Joe leaned back to appraise Quinn Fabray.

She was still so very beautiful. The first time he'd seen her he had been stunned by her beauty. She looked like an angel. She wasn't one he'd learned but she could give off that quiet serenity that he associated with celestial beings. The image was capped by a sweet voice that made him melt. After her accident, he'd spent a lot of time with her and come to like her more for herself than for the beauty, particularly the part of her that had fought to recover the use of her legs so quickly, but their time together was platonic and it was short. She'd graduated and gone to Yale within months of their meeting.

"So," he said, breaking the silence, "I'm here because I asked you how you were."

Quinn let out a harsh laugh and nodded her head, a little embarrassed.

"I'm fine, really, I just…"

Joe waited, and she was thankful for the space to find the words.

"Joe," she said, "do you have experience with adopted children?"

Joe had been thinking about what Quinn might need and he was pleased that he hadn't been off the mark.

"Some experience," he said, "with parents, biological and adopters, and with adopted children."

Quinn nodded again. She hesitated.

"Is this about the baby you had in high school?"

She looked up in shock. She had forgotten he knew. She didn't remember speaking about it and she so rarely spoke about it. She was puzzled until she remembered that he was there when she and Kurt got into a debate about Karofsky. Understanding, she nodded again.

"Yes," she said haltingly, "yes, it is. You see, she's here. Here in Lima and I have the chance to meet her…"

Joe stayed silent.

"I don't know what to do! I-"

Further discussion was prevented by the arrival of their breakfasts. They waited while they were served. Once the waiter was out of earshot, Quinn picked up her fork and starting pushing the food around the plate. Joe watched her for a moment before speaking.

"Do you know if she wants to meet you?"

"That's just it. She does. Or at least Puck says she does."

Joe raised an eyebrow.

"Puck stayed in touch with her." Quinn laughed. "Actually, Puck married Shelby, Beth's mother, and raised her for a while. He's been in her life ever since."

"Are you jealous?"

Quinn sat back. That was a good question. Was she?

"No," she said slowly, "no, I don't think I am. I mean, Shelby said that I could see Beth, before I went psycho on her, and maybe she would have let me after I came to my senses but… I never even thought to ask."

Quinn gave up the pretence of eating, dropping her fork onto the plate.

"What kind of person am I that I could just walk away from a child and spend years not thinking about her? I think it makes me a monster and I think that as soon as she sees me, she'll see that I'm a monster too and…"

Tears were forming in Quinn's eyes and she choked back a sob. Joe leaned forward and took her hand gently.

"You didn't walk away," he said softly. "You found her a home where she would be loved. You were sixteen, you were scared and you were far too young to look after a child. And you understood that. You accepted that you were doing the right thing. There's no law on heaven or earth that says you have to pine about that or have regrets or brood. You're not a monster, Quinn, any more than I am. You're a sinner, as are we all, but your sin was not giving up your daughter and your sin is not in failing to feel the way some people think is the way you should feel. There's no universal standard on what it's acceptable to feel. God gives us the freedom to feel how we feel. He just asks us to recognise His Greatness and to live our lives as best we can."

Quinn sipped her orange juice. She knew herself and she knew she cared about image far more than she should. She'd realised as she told Joe what was really bothering her that it was all about image – how she'd appear to her daughter – and that it didn't matter. Worrying about how Beth would view her and her actions was selfishly worrying about her own image and that was plain idiotic. All that really mattered was Beth.

"So, you don't think I'll emotionally scar her?"

Joe laughed. "I seriously doubt it." He thought for a moment and turned serious. "Quinn, one of the things my experience has taught me and which I think is worth the warning is this. Adopted children often build up an image of a biological parent that is idealised. No one could match up to it, never mind the poor individual concerned. Actually, I've known some biological parents do the same regarding the child. Anyway, the child can be disappointed on facing the reality and that could cause pain, to both the child and the parent. You need to be prepared for that. Beth must be what, in her twenties?"

"Twenty-four."

"She's grown up. If she says she wants to see you, then she wants to see you. She's mature enough to be realistic. You won't damage her by being less than perfect. Don't use that as an excuse to avoid this but don't feel you have to see her either because it might hurt her if you don't. You need to make your own decision about what you want for yourself."

Quinn nodded.

"I'm not sure I've been that much help."

Quinn shook her head.

"You have," she said, "you really have. Thank you."

**Mercedes and Matt**

Mercedes woke up, surprised at the lateness of the hour. The children were normally jumping on her bed long before this. Her parents must have got them up this morning and kept them out of the way. She listened. She couldn't hear a sound. Perhaps they'd all gone to the early morning service to let her and Matt lie in. Mercedes dressed quickly and crept downstairs in case her guest was still sleeping. She peeked around the door and was astonished by what she saw.

Matt was sitting up in the sofa-bed, still in his hole-free boxer shorts. He couldn't move because he had a twin on either side of him, cuddled into his waist, either arm around them, his hands being claimed by the firm grasps of the twins. Jeffrey, Mercedes' five-year-old, named after Justin's father, was balanced on his knee, holding up a book. Matt was reading out loud to them from one of Kurt's stories. Jeffrey was taking great joy in turning the pages. As she watched, Jeffrey playfully tilted the book away from Matt's eyes. Matt's response was to make his voice go higher and squeakier, much to the delight of them all. They were all positively gleeful.

Mercedes pulled away quickly, not wanting to disturb the scene or distract the children. They would rarely sit and listen to a story any more. Mercedes felt her heart flip. She swallowed a gasp and ran as softly as she could back up the stairs.

They didn't like her to tell stories. They wanted her to sing. Justin was the one who read the stories, making animal noises that made them giggle. Mercedes sank down on the bed. As much as her mind was on Justin and her loss, as much as she expected to cry, she smiled because she couldn't stop seeing the scene that was unfolding downstairs. Matt was unbelievably good to be humouring her babies like this. She'd been so wrapped up in her loss for so long, cut herself off from the world so completely; she'd forgotten that people could be kind. She and Matt had known each other a year in high school. They had never been close. Honestly, he had not crossed her mind in over twenty years. Yet, there he was, amusing her babies, sitting in his boxer shorts.

Mercedes rose and walked slowly to the closet. Like his pyjamas, Justin had kept some other clothes here in Lima, casual stuff. She pulled out a pair of his jeans and a jacket. From the shelf, she took a light sweater. There were some trainers too on the floor of the closet. She judged that Matt was a similar size to Justin but wasn't sure about his feet, frowning at them. She shrugged. Might as well try, she thought. It would be better than him having to wear dress shoes all day.

Mercedes lay the clothes on her bed, gazing down at them. She hadn't wanted to give Matt Justin's pyjamas and was grateful when he turned the offer. This was different. This she wanted to do. Mercedes grabbed the clothes and ran down the stairs.

"Where are my babies, oh, where are my babies," she called out. She was rewarded by yelps and screams and bangs and running feet and cries of "Mommy!"

They ran out into the hall and Mercedes gave each a big hug and a bigger kiss.

"Have you had breakfast?" They nodded vigorously.

"Where's Grand-mom and Grand-pops?"

"Church," Jeffrey shouted back.

Mercedes dropped her voice and said suspiciously, "So what have you three been up to? Are you being naughty?"

"No!" They all cried out, laughing. "Uncle Matt's been reading to us."

Mercedes' daughter Jade informed her quite seriously that Uncle Matt would read to her too. Jace, Jade's twin, grabbed her hand and attempted to drag her into the living room. Mercedes held her ground. "Okay, okay, I'll come in. But first, I think that you should all run upstairs and put some clothes on, don't you? It's a fine time to be parading about in pyjamas."

There was a hint of protest at this. Mercedes forestalled it.

"Once you're dressed and Uncle Matt is too, maybe we can take him to the park and feed the ducks."

This proved to be a popular plan and they ran upstairs. She'd have to follow to help them but she slipped into the living room first.

Matt had taken the opportunity to strip and fold up the sofa bed. He was in the process of putting a leg into his formal trousers as she entered.

"You were a big hit, I see," Mercedes said lightly.

"Oh, hi," he said, giving up for the moment on the trousers. "They're great. Your parents said that if they went to the early service, they could look after the kids while you were at the brunch, so I volunteered to babysit 'til you woke up. The kids were kind of keen to go wake you up actually so I grabbed the first thing I could to distract them. Kurt's a pretty good writer. I found myself wanting to read quickly to the end and had to turn the book over to Jeffrey to stop myself."

Mercedes smiled. She hesitated and then held out the clothes. Matt looked at them and then her uncertainly.

"Take them," Mercedes said quietly. "Last night, I was all emotional and stupid. You'll be more comfortable in something fresh and you don't want to be the only one there in a tux. I'm not sure about the shoes though. They may not fit."

Matt reached out to take the pile and paused as he touched it.

"You sure?"

Mercedes nodded.

"Absolutely."

**Rachel and Finn**

"I don't think I can turn up in this," Rachel said haltingly, staring down at herself in Ray's shorts, which went to Rachel's knees and a sleeveless t-shirt the neck of which threatened to expose her breasts every time she moved.

Finn looked up and smiled until he saw the bruises on her arms.

"Oh, shit," he said, "was that-?"

"I think it was," Rachel said thoughtfully. "Do you think Ray would mind if I looked for something else to wear?"

"Tell you what," he said. "Go and grab another top or a sweater or something, and I'll run you down to the mall. You can buy whatever you want to wear for the brunch."

Rachel was about to raise the problem of her credit cards but he got in before her.

"You can pay me back if you insist."

Rachel smiled and nodded. They'd mutually adopted an emotional moratorium with the morning and Rachel was glad of it. She was exhausted, surviving on very little sleep and she had a party to host. It wasn't fair on the others for her to be anything but attentive to the brunch.

"I need to get some thread and needles too," she said.

"Why?"

"Ray's pyjama top. I didn't want to return it like- I wanted to sew the buttons back on. Try anyway. I'm not very good."

"I did it this morning," Finn said.

She stared at him.

"You sew?"

He shrugged. "You learn how to do all kinds of things in the army."

Rachel stared at him, not hiding that she thought that was awesome. Finn blushed and looked away.

Rachel ran upstairs and found a different t-shirt, one with short sleeves and a round neck. She grabbed her sunglasses to avoid detection at the mall. Finn was waiting at the front door, car keys in hand when she rejoined him. She nodded to indicate she was ready and Finn opened the door.

"Damn."

The first camera flash blinded her. In the instant before it did, she caught sight of a crowd of about twenty, mostly photographers and reporters. Rachel considered retreating into the house but knew from experience that it wouldn't solve anything. She put on her sunglasses and grabbed Finn's hand. She strode out, blinking rapidly to clear her vision, pausing to give Finn the chance to shut the door behind him. She let him propel her to the car, shielding her from the worst of the attention. Questions were flying from every direction.

"Ms. Berry! Are you two an item?"

"Rachel, Rachel! Are you staying in Lima?"

"Finn, you two were high school sweethearts. Have you hooked up again?"

"Ms. Berry! Did you spend the night here?"

"Rachel, will you sign my cast?"

This last was from a fan sporting a broken arm. Rachel paused and then walked towards her, taking the pen she proffered and quickly signing her name to the cast on her arm. She wished her a get-well-soon and scurried to the car. Finn made sure she was in before going round to the driver's side. Like Rachel, he ignored all the intrusive questions. He kicked the engine into life and quickly though carefully pulled out of the drive, avoiding toes but being aggressive enough to ensure any who tried to stand in the way had to move.

Driving away, he glanced at Rachel. She was mortified.

"They took pictures of me like this," she wailed.

"Does it matter? You're beautiful whatever you wear."

"Of course it mat-"

The rest of what he said sunk in and she stopped to bask for a moment.

"They'll be all over the net within the hour," she sighed, "and they'll never go away. They will be held up by those wanting to ridicule me for the rest of time."

"If people want to ridicule you, that's their problem, not yours."

Finn said it so matter-of-factly that Rachel looked at him in surprise.

"This from the guy who thought popularity was important."

Finn glanced at her, irritated. "I was young and stupid then."

Rachel muttered, "And now you're older."

Finn caught the insult and didn't respond except to grit his teeth.

They drove silently the rest of the way with Finn concentrating on diversionary tactics again. As Finn parked, he scanned the area. Reaching into the glove compartment, he pulled out a cap and threw it on her lap. She took it, examining it with suspicion.

"Why do you have this in your glove compartment?"

"I wear it sometimes, you know, at baseball games. I put it in there earlier in case you needed it."

She stared at him, surprised he'd given it thought. She tried it on. It was too big but that was an advantage. She could push her hair inside and the cap would still came low over her brow. She turned to Finn for approval. He nodded solemnly but she saw the smile play on his lips. Well, it was the best she could do in the circumstances.

They left the car in the hope that the disguise would last long enough for Rachel to find some better fitting clothes and get her hair done. It helped that Finn drew her to his side, shielding her with his body from attention as best he could. They'd lost the people who were at the house but there was still any Tom, Dick or Mary with a cell who could report her presence. Finn waited by the door of the boutique while Rachel quickly selected a day dress and shoes, watching carefully to see any signs that Rachel had been recognised. At the hairdresser's, Rachel asked to be seated as far from the window as possible. When Rachel was led to the rear, Finn made it clear to the proprietor how deeply unhappy he would be if the shop was invaded over the next hour and that he would make it worthwhile if that could be avoided. The proprietor nodded, made some calls in Finn's presence sending appointments for the next hour to his rivals and then put up the "Closed" sign.

**New Directions**

Gail looked around the room, admiring the efforts of the staff of the Wingate who'd put together a decent show for a hastily arranged brunch for up to twenty-five people. There were bowls of fresh flowers on the large dining table and streamers decorated the walls. There was a huge banner spanning the window that said "New Directions 2009-2012" which she couldn't even guess at how they'd managed. She looked forward to see what the food would be like.

When Artie asked her to come, she readily agreed. She's wanted to anyway, to get more footage, but she'd thought that she wouldn't be welcome. She wasn't Artie's partner and by the way he was sending daggers her way, she wouldn't ever be. Not that it was an ambition but she liked him and admired him. She didn't want to be at odds with him. He just needed to realise that the filming came first and that when she was filming, she had to remain an observer.

She and Artie had been the first to arrive. There was no sign of Rachel but the hotel somehow had a guest list and they were shown into the room which was large, made airier by the open doors at the end giving way to a view of the garden. Artie wasn't really speaking to her although he had given her the names of the New Directions members and pencil sketches so she could identify them. She had met many the previous evening, mostly after the invasion, but not all of them. Artie had gone back to making barbs about her failure to rescue him the night before so she was pleased when the next guests arrived, itching to film.

Gail watched as Puck and Blaine arrived together, greeting Artie warmly. Blaine and Artie quickly got into an argument about music.

"Dawg," Artie said emphatically, "Velvet Overground couldn't find a middle C on a one-note piano and their corruption of one of the greatest names in music history is offensive!"

"But they have some great tunes, Artie," Blaine protested. "People just love when I do their covers. You're just being a music snob since they were created on a reality show! They're the new Coldplay, for heaven's sake!"

Gail swung the camera from Artie's blustering gasps at Blaine's taste to Puck. He wasn't joining in and seemed lost in his own thoughts. She watched him a while, staying with him when the next guests arrived.

She saw his face transform with a huge grin as he cried out, "Lauren!" and ran to hug a large woman. Behind her was a couple, both less large than Lauren but very round. It was Sugar and, Gail supposed, her other half. Sugar elbowed Puck and Lauren out of the way, a move that had Lauren glare and threaten to lunge at her, an action Puck blocked with a laugh as he pulled her to the side, away from the entrance. Sugar saw Artie and squealed, jumping into his lap, managing to send Blaine flying to the side.

What was it about Artie that women kept doing this?

Artie's breath was ejected from his body with some force and he grunted, holding his chair stable before looking up at Sugar and grinning. She put her arms around his neck and drew his face to her bosom, all the while chattering like a mad thing. Artie seemed content and the husband looked on as if he'd seen it all before. Blaine looked a little offended at being pushed aside but cheered when Kurt and Sam walked in, accompanied by a very handsome man with very little hair. Blaine headed straight for them, grabbing Kurt and kissing him on the mouth very extravagantly. The bald man rolled his eyes and Sam laughed. Blaine hugged Sam before turning to the man.

"George."

"Blaine."

Pleasantries over, Blaine embarked on an animated description of Artie being Artie about music. George wandered over to Puck and Lauren, Puck introducing them.

Santana arrived at the door, not actually saying "Ta-da" as she paused to pose with her arm thrown high but demanding the same response. She accepted the words of welcome as her due before glancing around. The disappointment that more people weren't there to see her entrance was plain on her face.

Gail continued to scan the room and pick up fragments of people reconnecting. There was a noticeable stir in the room when Rachel Berry arrived with the tall guy, Finn. Rachel already had tears in her eyes although whether from the emotion of the reunion or something else, Gail didn't know. What she did know was that her camera would work it out.

Rachel worked the room like the pro she was. She spoke to every person, hugged every person, spoke with great animation and let her tears of happiness flow freely. Gail picked up Finn and noticed that he seemed to be having a pretty intense conversation with Kurt. She was about to move closer when Rachel reached her.

"Hi, I'm Rachel Berry," she said, holding out her hand. "You must be Gail."

Gail lowered the camera and took the proffered hand, shaking it.

"Hi. I hope you're okay with me being here. Artie said it was okay but I know celebrities aren't usually so keen."

Rachel laughed. "You're fine," she said. "Artie called the hotel to check and they called my PA who called me. I rang Artie and he explained what you were doing. I trust him and he trusts you, so…." She shrugged.

Rachel looked out over the room, now filling up with the arrival of Rory, followed by Tina and Mike, hand in hand. Gail smiled and Rachel caught it.

"They're all wonderful, aren't they?" Rachel was wistful. Gail looked down at her and nodded.

"Yeah, they seem to be."

"Well, I don't want to stop you," Rachel said. "Good luck!"

Rachel moved on. Gail looked back over at Finn and Kurt. Rory had joined them and she felt she'd missed a moment. Finn was cheerful with Rory but she did notice that he was keeping a careful eye on Rachel. Whenever she moved, he'd edge in the other direction, keeping as much distance between them as he could. Interesting. Artie had told her the history and it was crystal clear that they still had the chemistry.

Mike and Tina were working the room too although they kept stopping to talk to each other or give each other little pecks. They'd clearly had a good night. Gail grinned. Tina's effusiveness over Artie must have worked on the first husband. Gail glanced at Artie to see how he appreciated being used. He was smiling. Gail knew he'd be bringing up the promised threesome at some point in the day just to tease them.

Gail swung the camera around the room, catching Mercedes, Matt and Quinn arriving together at the door. Quinn and Mercedes were hugging. Quinn then walked towards Puck, whispering in his ear. Puck's worried look returned but she could glean nothing else as Quinn went to join Santana.

Gail did a count. She reckoned there were a couple more due to come. A waitress came in and whispered in Rachel's ear. Rachel nodded and moved to the table.

"Everybody," she shouted, and then with her best stage voice, "everyone!"

She packed a pretty loud yell for such a tiny package, Gail thought with amusement.

"They're asking us to sit down, so I suggest we grab our seats."

People moved to the table. Gail was most curious to see what Finn would do and filmed him watching what Rachel was doing. When Rachel sat down, Finn chose a seat on the opposite side at the opposite end of the long table. Gail nearly dropped the camera with laughter when Rachel promptly got up and walked towards him, claiming the next seat. She sat down with a very determined look on her face.

Gail realised that Artie was waving at her, gesturing her to join them, when Brittany arrived with a quite young and handsome man. She introduced him to everyone as Sean, her boyfriend. She added that her girlfriend couldn't come because of the late notice. No one seemed at all confused or shocked.

"Are we all here?" Rachel asked, looking round.

Quinn piped up to say that Joe would be late because he was conducting a service. Rachel still wasn't happy.

"Where's-"

She stood, leaning forward to try and peer out the door without giving up her seat or giving Finn the opportunity to move. As she strained, he put a hand out behind her back, ready to clutch her if she tipped forward.

"That's devotion," thought Gail.

There was a commotion at the door. Will and Emma Schuster arrived.

"You didn't think you were going to have a party without me, did you?" Will announced.

There was cheering at the table as Will and Emma found a pair of seats together. The efficient staff quickly cleared the extra places, leaving one for Joe, and Gail finally took her seat next to Artie. She placed the camera carefully on the table, letting it continue to run, shifting it every so often in interesting directions.

The meal was delicious. As the event wound down, with many a little tipsy, they all agreed that the get-together should be an annual event. Rachel rose to say that she had a little surprise for them all.

She gestured at the door and a couple of the staff entered, wheeling in a small table covered with a cloth which they placed near the doors to the garden. Rachel thanked them as they left and then lifted the cloth off with a flourish. It was a karaoke machine. Rachel refused to sing until everyone else had a go. One by one, the members of New Directions and their director took the floor and sang. Sugar's performance was a revelation but her good cheer and complete obliviousness to the quality of her voice kept everyone entertained.

Finn was a reluctant participant until Rachel told him that if he didn't go solo, she'd make him do a duet with her at which everyone cheered. Finn paled and conceded, walking slowing down the room to the machine. He checked down the list until something caught his eye. He started it with a twisted grin and proceeded to kill "Born to Run." Gail thought he sounded rusty but good.

Mercedes kept ducking until she was the last to perform. Rachel declared that Mercedes had always been the real star of New Directions and that Rachel would go next to give her the last performance. Mercedes stood and said that wouldn't be right. She walked down to the machine. It took her an age to choose something, so long in fact that Matt's face showed concern and there was the sound of fidgeting. Finally, Mercedes pressed the button and did a version of "It's So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday," that left not a dry eye in the house.

Rachel joined her for an encore of the song, saying that it was impossible to follow it but that she would love to do it with her if Mercedes agreed. Mercedes smiled through her tears and nodded.

**Quinn and Puck**

A stone-cold sober Puck kept checking his watch. When it hit three, he looked up at Quinn and nodded. Quinn was sitting between Joe and Santana and each squeezed her arm as she made ready to take her leave.

"Um, guys," Puck said, standing. "Um, this has been great, really great but Quinn and I are going to go. We've got something planned."

There were suggestive leers and laughs round the table.

"No, no," Puck said indignantly, "nothing like that, you bunch of perverts. I'm a married man!"

"But where's your wife?" a voice called out.

Puck glared at Kurt who grinned at him good-naturedly and the people at the table roared. Puck cast a look over at Finn who gave him a supporting nod. Finn had talked to his mom and knew what was going on. Quinn stood up.

"I also wanted to say how wonderful today has been, the whole weekend in fact, thanks to Rachel and Mr. Schu. I didn't realise how much I missed this. I think I've exchanged numbers with everybody and I'm really looking forward to next year now. Uh, I know this is a cliché and one people aren't supposed to take seriously but I really do mean it. If you're ever in the Hamptons, look me up."

Applause met Quinn's speech, much to her surprise and embarrassment. She blushed and rushed to meet Puck at the door. As they exited, they heard the noise swell again behind them.

"I can't believe they are gossiping about us," Puck said, offended.

Quinn looked at him and laughed, kissing him on the cheek. "We all live by our reputations, you know."

Puck shrugged. He stared at her a moment before asking, "Ready?"

Quinn nodded, her confidence steady. Puck indicated the door of the hotel and she strode forward. Outside she paused to ask where they were going.

"To the park," Puck replied.

"The park?" Quinn was confused. "Why there?"

Puck shrugged. "Neutral territory. And she's got the Jerk with her."

"Puck, what are you talking about? Who's the Jerk?"

They'd reached Puck's car. He opened his mouth to explain and then shook his head.

"You'll see."

They drove to park, Quinn's confidence ebbing with each mile. When Puck parked, she grabbed his arm.

"What if she hates me?"

Puck grinned. "How can she hate you?"

He got out of the car, wanting no more delays. He opened Quinn's door.

"Come on," he said. "You can take my arm."

Quinn did, more for actual support than moral support. Her legs were threatening to give way. There were a lot of people in the park, it being a warm, sunny Sunday afternoon. Quinn concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, reliving her days in physiotherapy until Puck stopped and looked ahead. Quinn followed his gaze.

She was sitting on a bench. Leaning against her legs was the largest dog Quinn had ever seen, a St. Bernard/Irish Wolfhound/Mastiff cross of some sort.

"That's Jerky," Puck said, "or as I call him every time he slobbers on me, the Jerk. Some beast she rescued."

Quinn gulped back a sob.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

Quinn could see that Beth had spotted them now. She had risen to her feet but not moved. Quinn looked at Puck and shook her head. She released his arm and willed her legs to go forward. Puck watched as she slowly walked towards the bench. They stood staring at each other for what seemed like minutes but was probably only seconds. Puck saw Beth drop her dog's leash and throw her arms around Quinn. He felt tears in his eyes.

"Ridiculous," he said to himself before yelling, "Jerky! Come here, boy." He thought he might as well give them some slobber-free time.

**Finn**

Finn rocked from one foot to the other uncomfortably. They were down to Santana, Kurt and George, and Will and Emma. Rachel was chatting to the older couple and Finn needed to say goodbye to her.

Rachel didn't know that Finn had arranged for Kurt and George to take her back to her car at the motel. He'd gone back to the house while she was having her hair done to get her stuff and pack it in a small bag he had. The bag was now in George's car. Finn knew it was cowardly of him but he knew he couldn't deal with being alone with Rachel again. She was eroding his defences as fast as he could erect them but he knew he was right. Her best interests lay in New York, with the people she'd gathered around her. What she'd achieved proved that he was right to set her free twenty-two years ago. He'd been an obstacle to her happiness and it had taken him too long to work that out. He wasn't going to make that mistake again.

Santana drifted towards him.

"Hey, Santana," he said, his eyes darting between her and Rachel. "It's been a while."

"It has. I see you're still pining after Berry."

"What? No," he said, "I mean-" He sighed. "Yeah. It was and it will ever be so."

Santana was curious. "She's not interested? That's not what it looked like."

"Oh, she's interested, it's just-"

Finn stopped himself. "It's too complicated to explain."

Santana put her hands on her hips. "Okay, doughboy, although I have to say you are looking pretty hard under there these days, you were never the sharpest tool in the box so let me give you a piece of advice. If it's too hard to explain, then it's probably not worth explaining because it doesn't matter. Honestly, I don't know how you people manage well enough to pro-create!"

"You people?"

"You know, girls and guys. Give me girls every time. At least you know where you are."

Finn laughed. "I beg to disagree." He looked down at her, eyes dancing wickedly. "Besides, from what Quinn says, you've got your own problems."

Santana's eyes widened. "What did she say?"

"She said that she thought you were getting married and then you weren't and then you were."

"Oh," Santana snorted, "that." She waved her hand dismissively. "That's not a problem, that's just…"

She paused. He smiled and they said it in unison.

"Complicated."

Santana laughed and then sighed. "I don't know. Funny stuff, relationships. Can't live with them, can't live without them."

Finn looked over at Rachel. "Tell me about it."

"Well, you know what I think?"

Finn turned back to her. "No. What do you think?"

"You're wrong, Finn Hudson," Santana said without rancour. "Whatever it is, you're wrong. You always are. You think you're doing stuff for the best and you're so fucking sincere about it that nobody gets mad at you but…" She paused to tap him on the nose with her finger, "You're always wrong."

This got Rachel's attention. She made a move to excuse herself from the Schusters and head their way.

"Uh oh," Santana said, "Envy alert. I'll leave you with this favour."

Santana rose onto her toes and kissed an unprepared Finn smack on the lips, lingering as long as she could before Rachel reached them. She grinned and raced back to Kurt and George who were staring at her gob-smacked.

"What was that about?" Rachel's tone was light but Finn heard the undercurrent beneath. Rachel had always been jealous of Santana. It didn't matter that Santana was a lesbian or how many times he had assured her that she had no cause. Rachel clung to the notion that Santana was hotter than she was and a threat, never forgetting that Santana had taken his virginity.

"Nothing; just Santana being mischievous, that's all." Finn hesitated. She looked up at him, attentively. "Rachel, I, uh, I-"

He leaned foreword and kissed her on the forehead. He rushed on.

"Kurt and George are going to take you back to your car. I packed your stuff up while you were at the hairdressers and they've got it. I'm going to say goodbye here. I've got- I've got somewhere I have to be."

"No, Finn, no," Rachel pleaded, "we don't finish it like this. We've connected, oh, how we've connected. Stop pulling the plug!"

Finn bent down and kissed her cheek, whispering in her ear, "Be well, be happy." He whirled round and virtually ran out, not needing to look back. He could see her standing there in his mind's eye, shocked and thwarted.

Finn raced to his car and got in. Starting the engine, he backed immediately with another squeal of tires. He drove and didn't stop, the image of Rachel still in front of his eyes, until another squeal of brakes and an insistent horn alerted him to danger. He was in time to take avoidance measures but it was close. He'd ignored a stop sign. He pulled up by the curb and took some deep breaths. Swearing to himself to be more careful, he started up again, not having far to go.

**Rachel**

Kurt and George joined her as soon as Finn left. She was staring at the space he'd occupied, unblinking.

Kurt put his hand on her shoulder.

"Rachel?"

She blinked and looked up at him. Her eyes were dark pools.

"You okay?"

"I hate your brother," she said.

"No, you don't," Kurt said, "but he can be a self-righteous prick at times. It's all your fault, anyway."

Rachel was stricken by the accusation.

"What happened to 'I won't talk to him unless you're there'?" Kurt continued. "Instead, you go home with him? Unless you two played Trappist monks all night, and that I would have paid to see for the robes alone, you broke your promise to me."

Rachel stammered about the crowds and the motel and dried up, not knowing what to say.

"Rachel, I'm kidding," he said, pulling her into a hug. "My brother can be a stubborn fool."

"And his brother can be an insensitive bitch," George mumbled.

Rachel looked at the two men glaring exaggeratedly at each other and her face broke into a grin.

"No, Kurt's right," she said. "I needed that. I refuse to wallow. Warn your brother though that I am not giving up. I just need to recuperate a little, get my diva back. I'm irresistible in diva mode, you know."

Kurt assured George that it was true, that Rachel's diva mode was even more impressive than George's own. Rachel left them lovingly bickering to say goodbye to Will.

"Mr. Schu, I'm going now but I'll see you next year. Maybe sooner."

"I hope so, Rachel," he said as he hugged her. He held her out a little. "Dare I ask? Are you and Finn…?"

Rachel let out a noisy harumph. "No. We're not. But we will be. I'm sure of it now. He wouldn't have run that fast if he didn't think so but was too pig-headed to admit it. He made some stupid excuse about having to be somewhere."

"Oh." Will looked guilty.

"You know where he is?"

"No, not exactly," Will said reluctantly, "and it's not really my place to say-"

"Mr. Schu, you know how persistent I can be?"

Struggling to hide a smile, Will said, "You're not going to bully me, Rachel."

Rachel changed tack, trying sincerity. "Will! You know he's unhappy. I can change that. Please, tell me."

Will cast a helpless glance at Emma who had quietly observed their exchange. She nodded to her husband.

"I don't know he's there, Rachel, but he took the keys for the auditorium. He said something about feeling the need to play the drums. The school band instruments are still on the stage from last night. We cleaned up this morning but hadn't taken them back to the music room. Finn sold his drum kit years ago. "

Rachel reached up and kissed Will's cheek.

"Thank you."

She hugged Emma and rejoined Kurt and George, following them out to their car.

Once at the motel and satisfied that her car hadn't been damaged in the fire, Kurt handed her a wad of bills. Rachel stared at it, confused.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Finn said you might need cash, something about not having cards? I tried to explain that you can pay for everything on your phone and I know you have that, but you know how long it takes that boy to catch up."

Rachel issued a sound that was halfway between a chuckle and a sob. She gave George and Kurt a hug as they said fond farewells.

"Don't be too quick to say goodbye," Rachel said with renewed determination. "He cares." She waved the cash.

Kurt raised a brow, then kissed her cheek.

"Does that make you the mountain or Mohammad" he asked, shaking his head. "Good luck."

Rachel tossed Finn's bag into the car and climbed in. She didn't hesitate. She drove straight to the school.

The school was locked up. Rachel stamped her foot in frustration until she remembered there was a door that led directly to the back of the stage. She ran round the building and tried it. It wasn't locked. As soon as she opened it, she was blasted by the sound of drums. She took a deep breath and stepped inside, closing the door behind her.

"Drums of fury?" she challenged silently, "You've got nothin' on Rachel Berry."


	10. Chapter 10: One Fine Day

**Note: This is the final chapter. Thank you to all of you who took the time to read and especially to those who reviewed. It's a great motivator to keep going.  
**

**Chapter Ten: One Fine Day**

_One fine day_

_You'll look at me_

_And you will know our love was_

_Meant to be_

**Rachel and Finn… Then**

"Drums of fury?" she challenged silently, "You've got nothin' on Rachel Berry."

Rachel crept in, making her way round to the wings. Finn was centre stage, beating the drums furiously. He'd ditched his jacket and tie, leaving them in a pile on the floor.

She had no idea what he was playing, if anything, but she wanted to let him play himself out. After what seemed like hours, his pounding softened and she heard more recognisable rhythms. She heard something else. She had to strain but realised that he was singing softly to himself. His voice gradually got stronger and louder as he sang "Jesse's Girl."

When he finished and stopped drumming, Rachel stepped out onto the stage. His head was drooped over the drums. She spoke.

"You've got her. You've always had her."

Finn lifted his head. She was ready for a fight so his reaction stunned her.

"I knew you'd come," he said, opening his arms.

With a sob, Rachel ran to him. As she ran, Finn twisted around so he was still sitting on the stool but not facing the drums. Rachel wedged her self between his legs and threw her arms around his back. His arms enveloped her and he pulled her in tight. They stayed like this, motionless, for many minutes, until the sobs died away and the trembling stopped, letting the comfort seep into them.

Rachel finally pulled back to look at Finn's face. He brought one hand up to stroke her cheek and gently brushed away a tear with his thumb. She searched his eyes, trying to find there the reason for the change. She opened her mouth to speak. He placed his finger on her lips and barely shook his head, letting his eyes plead for her to stay silent. She buried her head in his neck and waited for him to speak.

"I-I," he stuttered and coughed. He took a deep breath and started again. "Rachel, I've been sitting here, trying to figure out why I wasn't doing what every part of me wanted to do which was to never let you go. It didn't make a lot of sense when I wanted that so much. It was something Santana said that made me realise what it was."

Finn felt Rachel stiffening and he stroked her back soothingly.

"Not specifically what she said, but I think she put me on the right track. You see, I always thought I did the right thing when I let you go to New York alone. I thought what happened proved it, not just your success but us being apart, th-that us being apart was _necessary_. That's what got me through afterwards, every single day. To realise or even think I was wrong, that it wasn't necessary, it meant that not only was every day since a lie, but that I wrecked our future together for no reason. I couldn't-I couldn't-" He choked.

Rachel lifted her head and kissed him gently on the lips before saying softly, "Go on."

Finn took a deep breath and continued, "That was tough to face, you know? I think the rest was what you said, excuses and being defensive and being a coward…"

Rachel opened her mouth to protest but thought better of it on seeing his face. She had to let him finish.

"I couldn't see forgiving myself and I couldn't see you forgiving me and I thought that once you knew the truth, then you'd regret even the memories. I couldn't stand that. But here, with the drums, I realised that I was doing the same thing. I was thinking, 'it's for the best,' which is kind of funny, you know, because it all started with me believing that and being wrong in the first place? And I realised I was getting all screwed up over the wrong thing. It wasn't what we did twenty-two years ago that mattered. It was what we did here, now, that mattered."

He pushed her back a little, his hands gentle on her bruised arms.

"So, Rachel Berry, I wanted to tell you that I make really lousy choices when it comes to you and me so… I surrender. It's your turn to choose. I'm leaving it up to you to-"

Rachel gave her response by leaning forward, licking her lips and stopping his mouth with hers. It was a soft, non-invasive kiss, one that gloried in the feel of sliding her wet lips along his. He gave her control, moving his lips just as gently over hers. She acknowledged the restraint by pulling away only so far as it took to take his lower lip gently between her teeth and nibble it. She felt his indrawn breath more than heard it as she followed along the lower lip until she reached the corner of his mouth. There, a tiny flick of her tongue was enough to bring his arms back around her, pulling her close.

Rachel continued her slow exploration with his upper lip, biting softly and rubbing. As she rounded the highest point, she nipped him harder, causing him to make a sound that made feel the dampness between her legs. She fought down the impulse to hurry and slowly reached the other corner of his mouth. This time, her tongue lingered there and then slid into his mouth.

Rachel felt one hand leave her back. She had been staring at his lips but now she cast her steady gaze up to see his eyes. They were glazed and she knew he was struggling not to place his hand behind her head and force her to intensify her probing. She pulled away, out of his arms, out from between his legs and out of reach.

He was breathing heavily and stared at her questioningly. Rachel laid her hands on the top of his thighs and dragged them slowly down to his knees pressing them, indicating he should close his legs. He did and she climbed onto his lap, sliding her legs along either side of his hips.

Balanced on his legs, Rachel's head was a little higher than Finn's and she enjoyed a brief moment on looking down into his eyes. She considered that at this point, she was inflicting torture. She could feel how aroused he was and she could see the strain giving her complete control was causing in every muscle in his face. It was a petty vengeance for his resistance and, while not deliberate on her part, it gave her a tiny thrill of satisfaction. She drew up her hand to stroke his cheek before ending the agony.

"Kiss me."

Given reign, Finn took it. He sank his hand into her hair and pulled her mouth to his. This time, there was no gentle exploration. The kiss was hard, their tongues going deep. His hand left her head and dropped to her shoulder, his other hand rising to its twin. He slipped off the jacket she had bought that morning and let it slide to the floor. He ran his hands down her arm and to her back. The long zipper of her new dress glided down smoothly. He let his hands tardy on her naked skin a moment, hearing her croon, before he gently pulled the dress down. She helped by dropping and relaxing her arms until the top of the garment was pooled at her waist.

Finally breaking the kiss, Finn's hands returned to Rachel's back and he bent his head to take one bra-covered breast into his mouth. It was the perfect fit he remembered and he flicked the hardening nipple beneath the lace with his tongue. Rachel threw back her head and closed her eyes, her mouth agape. She wanted to purr but her breath kept catching in her throat. When he moved to her other breast and she felt his teeth, she dropped her head again and began to unbutton his shirt. As she revealed his skin, she pressed her palms against him, rubbing in circles, enjoying the feel. She undid the buttons as far down as she could before returning her hands to his torso, sliding them around to his sides. She felt the scar, tracing the rough skin. It used to drive Finn crazy when she ran her fingers down the skin at his sides, barely touching. She discovered it still did.

Finn pulled his mouth from her breast and returned to her lips with greater fervour. He undid the bra quickly and drew it from her without breaking the kiss, his hands coming round to encompass and pad them. Rachel took advantage of the greater space between their bodies to lean forward and undo Finn's belt and the waistband of his pants. Finn groaned as she ran her hand along his length firmly. He released her breasts and grabbed her tightly. Rachel wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck as he rose to a stand. Finn let his trousers drop and frantically peeled his boxers down with one hand as far as he could without losing hold of Rachel. He sat back down and felt Rachel wriggle on his lap to remove her panties. When she had, he put one hand under Rachel's ass. She was already ahead of him, rising slightly and positioning herself on the head of his cock. He held her there a moment, stopping her from lowering herself, and used his other hand to draw her chin up so he could stare into her eyes. She stared back.

"I love you," he said brokenly.

Rachel didn't break the stare but as soon as he relaxed the hand on her buttock, she slowly rode down him, watching every reaction on his face and letting him see the same on hers. She rose and fell at a slow steady pace and his arms moved to her sides to help her. As the rapidity of their breathing increased, Rachel moved faster. Neither broke their focus on their eyes, wanting to drink in every movement. Rachel saw Finn come before she felt it and it was enough to send her into her own strong orgasm which forced her eyes closed. Finn held her to him tightly, his chin over her shoulder, letting her shudders fade away.

They sat on the stool, entwined in each other's arms for a long time after that, staying as one. Rachel felt drops of warm wetness on her shoulder and tightened her hold of Finn. Finally, reluctantly, they pulled apart. Rachel looked down and saw that Finn was recovering fast. She smiled. He saw the glance and the smile and kissed her gently before whispering into her ear.

"Thank god for the stability of drummers' stools," he said, basking in the sound of her chuckle before continuing. "When I was eighteen, I could sit on this stool all day doing this. Now I'm forty, I think I'm going to have to move to somewhere more comfortable."

Rachel let out a laugh of pure delight.

**Artie**

Artie was fidgeting. His bow tie was too tight, his chair was being a bitch and he had to pee. The speeches were interminable and even if he was being honoured as PBS Station Manager of the Year, he'd rather be skateboarding.

It had been a very good year, though. Rachel had agreed to do a fund-raiser for him, increasing contributions three-fold with a three-hour appearance. He had planned to talk to her about a four-hour one when he saw her the following weekend. He was confident she'd agree but if it meant he'd have to come back for another one of these bores, it was worth reconsidering the request. Oh, who was he trying to kid?

Then there was Gail and her camera.

When they got back to Toledo, Gail had disappeared for days. Artie had already nixed the whole project so he had no idea what she was doing. He called her to remind her that whatever she was doing, she wasn't getting paid. She said okay and hung up on him.

It was two weeks before she turned up again, although he only knew it from the presence of two digital files on his computer that hadn't been there the day before and the note on his desk.

_Watch New Directions first, then the other one. Gail_

"The other one" was actually titled "Untitled." He snorted in derision and spitefully found other things to do for a while, until curiosity got the better of him. He considered the minor act of rebellion of watching them in the wrong order before chiding himself for his peevishness. He really didn't understand why he was still so mad at her.

Artie got comfortable and set "New Directions" running.

He was entranced for the entire hour. She had narrated it herself – and would have to be replaced he said to himself, wearing his producer's hat. She had shaped it with themes of connectivity and time, between people, between generations and between ideas. She'd somehow gotten hold of Will's tapes of the New Directions performances and the club of Artie's years was heavily featured and contrasted with the older versions of the performers at the brunch, showing where they'd moved on and, more touchingly, where they hadn't. She hadn't made the mistake of over relying on Rachel either, although that would have been the easy, popular choice. Rachel was an equal among equals and the best of her was her dignity at the end of her performance on stage. What was most compelling was that Gail caught faces at the moment they realised or reflected on how important the glee club had been to them. There was even a shot of Sue, watching with a longing that was hidden from anyone in her presence. It was an extraordinary piece of film-making and the finest tribute to the power of music and the friendships it created that he could ever hope for.

Artie let out a long breath. She'd done her job, she'd done it well and he'd been an ass to her, dismissing her ability to make movie silk out of the sow's ear that was the chaos of the reunion. It was damn fine work. He owed her an apology.

Artie left his office to find her but she was nowhere to be found. He considered calling her but decided he should watch the other film first.

Pausing over the play button on "Untitled," Artie reflected that this was possibly the only time in his career he watching something having no expectations. He had no clue what this could be but his stomach fluttered anyway. The cursor blinked and he clicked on play.

It was another documentary, also an hour long. It had no commentary. It wasn't about the reunion. It wasn't about Rachel. It wasn't about the Cheerios or Lima. It was about Artie Abrams, the man. It presented Artie through the eyes of his mother, his friends, his wheelchair and himself. It showed many sides to him and it showed a man at peace with his world and for someone as dull as he reckoned he really was despite his front, it showed someone who was special. Artie sat back, stunned.

It was an hour before he picked up the phone to Gail. It was six months before both documentaries were shown on PBS. Each had been acclaimed and each was hotly tipped for awards. Artie and Gail had only two disagreements about them, each getting their way only once. Artie refused to let Gail co-credit him and Gail refused to take out the light relief slapstick she'd put in the documentary on him, a montage of women jumping into his lap.

The speech was winding down now and Artie looked up to see that Gail had joined him.

"Isn't it over yet?" she said with a sigh.

"Nope, but soon."

They waited for the last few moments before Artie was finally called upon to accept his award. He did so and gave a short speech about his pride in working for such a great and necessary institution and about his thankfulness at having around him people like Gail with the talent and skills to ensure that institution's survival. He wheeled himself to the side of the stage to rejoin Gail.

"So," he said. "You looking forward to the second annual brunch next week?"

"Have you cleared it with Rachel?"

"Don't need to," he said confidently. "You're leaving the camera at home. You're my plus one." Gail didn't say anything and Artie felt his confidence slip. "If you want to be," he added.

Gail stared into the distance. A tiny smile played on her lips.

"I want to be."

**Mike and Tina**

"Can we do it?"

Tina was swaying, impatience personified. "You're supposed to be good at math. What's taking you so long?" she complained.

Mike was sitting at their kitchen table, scribbling furiously on a sheet littered with numbers and columns. He ignored his wife until he sat back with a huge sigh and stared up at her.

"Yes!"

Tina squealed and started jumping up and down. Mike leapt up from the chair and joined her, putting his arms around her waist. They stopped and looked at each other with wide smiles.

"You know what this means?" he said.

Tina nodded. She knew. She'd been working towards it for almost a year now and it had become her passion project.

The drive to attract older couples for ballroom dancing lessons had gone fairly well. They didn't get huge numbers at first, but they got enough to be able to set up three levels of classes, beginners, intermediate and advanced. For the final group, Tina had proposed that they work towards creating a formation team, one that could compete nationally. It was ambitious but it gave the students something to work towards. As word spread about the classes, more and more people joined of all ages and she was able to put together a team with the real chance to do well on the ballroom circuit. They'd not won anything yet but Tina had confidence that they would with more practice. The problem was that formation teams needed space to practice together and with the studio being committed to other dancers as well, that was proving to be difficult.

Mike was the one to come up with the idea of opening a second studio, one dedicated to ballroom and purpose-built or converted. It was a risky venture, one they might regret if interest waned, but Tina put her faith in her team and Mike put his faith in Tina. They could stretch.

"It means room, it means the team can practice, it means a ballroom studio, it means…," she paused to look up at her husband. She grinned wickedly. "It means I still love you."

She skipped away, her mind working furiously. She had so much to do, so much to organise and the first thing was finding the right property.

"Okay," she said, "next weekend we need to arrange cover so we can check out all the potential sites."

"We have cover for next weekend," Mike said with surprise. "The brunch, remember?"

"Oh," she said, having completely forgotten. "So we do." She thought for a moment before sidling up to his side. "But that won't take _all_ weekend, will it?"

"No, not all weekend," he said, bending down to nuzzle her neck.

**Mercedes and Matt**

Mercedes was humming to herself as she folded laundry. She and the kids had watched _Oklahoma_ the afternoon before – she'd fast forwarded the scary part with Laurie on the roof – and she couldn't get the music out of her head. She heard a child's chuckle and looked up with a smile. She could see Matt and kids on the couch. Matt was reading to them.

They weren't dating. By the time Mercedes moved back to LA permanently to pick up the threads of her career, about two months after the reunion, Matt had transferred from Sacramento to Bakersfield. She had called him to invite him for Sunday lunch the first week they were back. Ever since that day, he'd driven the two-hours early every Sunday morning to read to the kids and share lunch with them. It was a routine that neither questioned nor commented upon. They just fell into it.

She looked back down at her laundry, sorting and matching socks. She hadn't been forgotten by the studios and musicians who admired her and she was able to re-establish herself pretty quickly. She made some appearances on a few albums and mailed Sam the album versions which she signed. Everything's going my way, she thought as she hummed, everything except-

Mercedes paused and looked around her. There were pictures of Justin everywhere. She focused on the nearest, taking in his features, remembering the feel of him. She often talked to him in her head. She did now.

"I will always love you, my darling, and I will work my butt off to raise your children to be everything they possibly be, including Jade who has declared that she means to be president one day. You will be so proud of them. I will never let them forget you and I will never forget you, but my darling, it's time for me to move on. This is goodbye."

She stared at the picture a moment longer and then dropped her head, returning her attention to the laundry. She felt a weight removed from her shoulders as she completed her task and tucked the laundry basket under her arm to take it upstairs. She felt like singing.

_Oh, what a beautiful morning. Oh, what a beautiful day. _

_I've got a wonderful feeling, everything's going my way._

"Mommy's singing! Mommy's singing! Yah!"

The kids jumped off the couch and surrounded their mother.

"More Mommy! More!"

"I will, I will," she laughed, dropping the basket so they could see inside, "but if you don't let me get the laundry finished, you're going to flying to Grand-mom and Grand-pops in your underwear."

Jade, already developing political acumen screamed at the prospect and ran back to hide her face under Matt's arm. The boys thought it might be a hoot but let their mother go. They resettled around Matt as Mercedes drew the basket back to under one arm. She turned to go up the stairs. She paused at the door.

"Matt, I think when we get back from Lima, it would make more sense for you to come on Saturdays. I can feed you properly in the evenings rather than the hamburgers that some insist on," she paused to give the kids a scary glare that made them giggle, "and it would save you getting up so early on Sunday mornings to read to the kids."

Matt stared at her. Mercedes wasn't brooking an argument.

"Okay, good, that's settled." She whirled around and started singing again, continuing up the stairs and fading only when she got to the bedrooms.

Downstairs, Matt's brow was furrowed. He looked down at the couch which wasn't nearly as long as he was tall. He looked back at the space Mercedes had left behind her and stared at it before smiling, his heart beating faster.

She knew it and she knew he knew it. Mercedes didn't have a guest room.

**Santana, Quinn and Brittany**

The ceremony had been brief and beautiful. The after party was in full swing in the Trianon Suite at the Carlyle. Santana took a rare alone moment to look down at the ring on her hand.

"Well, that's it," she said to herself. "I'm a married woman." She loved the way she felt saying it.

As if by magic, her bride appeared at her side. Jane was smiling so widely that Santana knew that she was going to complain later that her face hurt but she didn't care. She grabbed Jane, bent her over her arm, and kissed her deeply. Jane's mouth opened readily under hers and their tongues intertwined and danced lazily. It was the sound of cheers that caused Jane to start struggling to be released. She shot up with a laugh and stroked Santana's face before turning to two of the guests.

"Santana, this is Anna and Charlie. They were my best friends in London and took care of me. I'm so glad you finally get to meet them."

Santana examined the two. Anna, the shorter of the two, had reddish-blond hair that was swept up in an elegant chignon. She was very pretty with porcelain skin and a warm smile. The other, who was tall for a woman, had short dark hair and a very different, ethereal sort of beauty. Santana held out her hand. The smaller woman brushed it aside and hugged Santana.

"I know we're supposed to be reserved," Anna laughed as she pulled out of the hug, "but Jane's told us so much about you that I can't help myself."

"Really," Santana queried with an arched brow. "She swore to me that she didn't miss me and hardly mentioned me to anyone."

Charlie, who was more reserved, took Santana's hand to shake. She said softly, "She lied to you."

Jane blustered for a moment before having the grace to blush.

Santana addressed Anna again. "Jane tells me that you have offered to sing for us. You don't have to especially if she had bullied you into it."

"No, no," she said, "I want to, honestly. Speaking of which…"

She trailed off and exchanged a nod with Charlie and Jane. Jane took Charlie's hand and led her away.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing, not really," said Anna, reassuring Santana. "They are just going to set up for me. Also, I asked to have a word with you in private."

"Me? What can I help you with?"

"I understand from Jane that you are friends with Rachel Berry."

"I know her. Friends? That might be a stretch. She's never really forgiven me for being the first to poke the love of her life."

"Finn Hudson?" Anna asked.

Santana frowned. "How on earth did you know that? Did Jane tell you?"

Anna laughed. "No, no. And I didn't know you, uh, poked Finn. I just knew that Finn was the love of Rachel's life, or at least she told me he was. More than once."

"You know Rachel? Wow, small world, although I suppose celebrities meet each other all the time."

"Actually, no," Anna said, "I haven't seen Rachel in over twenty years. We were at NYADA together. We shared a room for three months. I'd talk about Charlie, she'd talk about Finn. We commiserated with each other about leaving the ones we loved behind."

Santana's eye widened. "Sharing a room with Rachel Berry and having to hear all about Finn Hudson. I'm not sure I'd wish that on my worst enemy."

Anna smiled. "Rachel could be pretty intense at times, but then, I was the same way. I think it comes with the singing bug." She paused as she surveyed the party.

Santana asked, "Is there something you wanted me to do, about Rachel? Jane and I will be seeing her next weekend. I can't believe it but we're actually postponing the honeymoon to do it."

"At your request, I bet," Anna said softly.

Santana frowned at her. "You don't know me; you're not supposed to see through me that easily."

Anna laughed. "Ah, but I know Jane and I know the sort of woman she'd love. Anyway, I wondered if you would mind giving Rachel a letter from me. I'd write direct but from my experience, letters don't always get to you when you're in Rachel's position."

"Sure," Santana agreed. "Leave it with me." She noticed Charlie waving at them. "It looks like you're being summoned."

Anna kissed her cheek. "Thanks, Santana. It really was lovely to meet you and I look forward to knowing you better." She hurried away towards her partner.

Santana looked around and saw Quinn, backed into a corner by a man in a monocle. She ran to the rescue.

"Quinn, I need you. Excuse us," she said as she pulled Quinn from the corner. When they'd put some distance between them, she asked Quinn, "Who was that? And who wears a monocle? Was he trying to get into your pants?"

Quinn shuddered. "Worse. He was trying to sell me insurance."

"What? I'll kill Jane. Some of her friends are just too weird."

Quinn laughed before adding, "He might have been trying the other too."

"He'd have to be blind not to. Why didn't you bring a date? You usually have somebody to keep the hounds at bay."

"I didn't have time to organise anything," Quinn said, her excitement showing. "Oh, Santana, the house looks wonderful. Sam and his team have done such a great job with the renovations."

"I should think so," Santana said disapprovingly, "given what you're paying them."

It was an old argument.

"I wanted someone I could trust," Quinn said, "and they deserve to be with their families at the weekend. It's almost done now anyway. They all go home for good on Friday, except Sam. He's coming with me to Lima. But as of Friday, the house will be perfect."

Santana smiled at her friend. "And then she comes."

"And then she comes _to stay_," Quinn corrected, "for a whole month." Her smile was blissful.

"Puck too?"

"Puck's coming for a week. He says that is all his wife will allow and for that he has to leave his balls at home." Quinn wrinkled her nose at the image until something over Santana's shoulder made her eyes widen. "Uh oh. He's heading this way again."

Santana considered turning around and making a scene but decided on a different course of action. What was needed was a date for Quinn or something else to tell him she wasn't available.

"Pucker up, girl," Santana said before grabbing her friend's face and giving her a kiss. She didn't let go until she saw the strange man pass.

Quinn was staring at her in bewilderment.

"That should get the message across," Santana said before glancing down at Quinn's face. "Oh, come on. I've wanted to do that for years."

Quinn shook her head and smiled.

"You could have just asked," she said.

"Can't now," Santana said, wiggling her finger. "Married woman."

Quinn gave her a hug, saying, "Speaking of which, congratulations. I know you'll both be happy."

"We will, won't we?" She tucked Quinn's arm in hers. "We ought to find Brittany."

They did a tour around the suite. Neither could believe it when they found Brittany in deep conversation with the man with the monocle.

"Do you think we should ride to the rescue?"

"Naw," Santana said. "Brittany can take care of herself."

"I meant him."

They looked at each other and burst out laughing. Indeed, it was only moments before the man walked away from Brittany, looking perplexed. Her friends joined her.

"Well done," Santana said.

"Thank you," said Brittany beaming. "I think he'll think really seriously about selling death any more. Anyway, I can't get distracted again. I'm looking for my date. Have you seen my date?"

"I didn't see you arrive," Quinn said slowly, "who did you come with?"

"That's the problem," she said, as if it should be obvious to a child.

"Brittany," Santana said, "what's the problem?"

"I can't remember if I came with my boyfriend or my girlfriend. One was a yes for the wedding and a no for the brunch and the other was the same but the other way around so one was one way and one was the other way, which makes a lot of sense when you think about it, but that's another which and which is which?"

Quinn and Santana, heads reeling, assured Brittany that they would help her find her date. They were still looking when Anna Daniels started to sing.

**Kurt**

Kurt ended the call and came out of his study, as drawn by the smells from the kitchen as by the task in hand. George was at the stove, stirring something that was divine. Kurt stood against George's back and put his arms around his husband's waist. He pressed against him so he could be clearly felt.

"You want something," George said suspiciously. "You only do that move when you want something."

Kurt objected as he nibbled at George's ear. "Not every time."

"This time?" George asked sceptically.

Kurt sighed and backed away.

"I want something."

"Ah, ha!" George was triumphant. He had turned around and was holding up a wooden spoon like a victory torch.

Kurt laughed, taking in the image which included the apron tied at George's waist. "You look like you're auditioning for a Betty Crocker commercial."

"This, I will have you know," pointing at the residue on the spoon, "is not batter. It is the beginnings of a perfect Bouillabaisse."

"George, your cooking is superb, as you insist on being told ten times a day, but Ray said that if you keep feeding her up, she'll have to give up NYADA and take up shot-putting."

"It's fish stew," George protested, turning back to his creation. "It's very healthy."

Kurt leaned up against him again and whispered in his ear. "I've got something here for you that's also very healthy."

George wiggled his ass into Kurt's groin before reminding Kurt that his niece would be home any minute. Kurt cursed, checking his watch. Foreplay wasn't what it used to be when a teenager lived in the apartment. Kurt walked away and threw himself bodily down on the couch.

"What is it, anyway?" George called out.

"A favour for a friend," Kurt called back.

George stopped stirring, put down the spoon and walked over to the couch, kneeling down at Kurt's side. Kurt watched as George bent forward, his mouth open. Kurt met the kiss and they stayed in position for some seconds before George pulled away.

"I'll do any favour for any friend of yours," he said softly, "as long as it is not Blaine."

Kurt responded with a smile that was a grimace laced with embarrassment.

"I knew it!" George said, shaking his head, "I knew it." He got to his feet and made his way back to the stew.

Kurt followed.

"I don't know why you do this. You love Blaine, you just pretend not to."

"I do not like Blaine. It's in the rulebook. 'You shall not love your lover's first.'"

Kurt bent his head to George's ear again. "Would you rather be first or last?" Kurt whispered coyly, his hand creeping round to George's groin.

George groaned. "You know what it does to me when you're charming and I've got dinner to cook!"

Kurt giggled and stepped back while George recovered himself.

"What does he want, anyway?"

Kurt explained. "He wants your lawyerly services. He's been offered a job at one of the bigger casinos. He's convinced that they are still being run by mobsters, so he wants to make sure he's not being cheated."

"A bigger casino? Wow," George said, "they must be desperate."

"George," Kurt said, with some exasperation, "you know Blaine's got a wonderful act. Besides, he was in the top 40 this year."

George turned to raise his eyebrows at his husband. "And what does that tell you about the state of the music industry today? It is inexplicable how anyone with taste would want to hear a crooner version of 'Don't Stop Believin' playing anywhere near them."

Kurt ignored the invitation to debate the difference between good and bad music. Sensing victory, he stroked the back of George's neck, his lover's favourite public erogenous zone.

"Blaine has sent me the contract and reckons you can check it and let him have it back next weekend."

"He reckons does he?" George snorted. "He expects me to drop everything else and do this?"

"No," Kurt said, snuggling closer, stroking George's favourite private erogenous zone, "but you will."

George groaned loudly.

"What time does Ray get here again?" he asked.

Kurt didn't have time to answer being too busy taking a step backward at the sound of a key being inserted into the door the apartment.

**Puck**

Puck was attracted to women. He always had been but he'd only recently come to realise that he was most attracted to strong women, women who suffered no nonsense from him.

Estelle was such a woman. She'd attracted him in the first place because she was hot but she was also strong. He'd worked hard to get her to marry him and he'd promised himself that he'd work harder to get her to stay married to him. She'd given him an ultimatum the night after he'd spent one too many at the Hudson-Hummels. He got his act together or they were done. That was the last night he spent at the Hudson-Hummels.

He'd never cheated on her. That surprised him when he realised it but it was true. She knew it too; otherwise they wouldn't still have the marriage they did. In fact, it was nearly over the day Puck came home with a Mohawk.

What working harder to be married meant was working harder at his job so he could be finished and away on time for the long drive home. What working harder at work meant was working better, smarter and in a way that indicated that he was ready to be more responsible, like in his marriage. They went hand in hand.

For nearly a year, Puck had applied himself. It was a new experience and he found he actually enjoyed it. Why hadn't anyone ever told him?

Everything was coming up roses until Quinn asked Beth to the Hamptons for the summer. They settled on a month but Beth wanted Puck to come too, if not for the month, at least for a week, to give the three of them a chance to bond more as a family of sorts. Quinn was cool with the idea so it was just a question of whether or not Puck would come.

Puck kept it buried for a month, debating what to say to his wife.

"Honey, is it okay if I go stay for a week in the Hamptons with the girl I got pregnant in high school, who's now very rich and is still very beautiful, and the girl we created?"

Yeah, no. He didn't see that working. But time pressed on and Beth wanted an answer and Quinn wanted an answer and Puck wanted to go. Finally, he told Estelle, pretty much in the exact way he'd rejected.

It probably helped that Estelle knew and liked Beth. It probably helped that Puck had been on his best behaviour for so long, and, more importantly, was making the effort. It probably helped that Estelle would get the chance to meet Quinn at the brunch. Hell, it probably helped that Puck just told the truth. Whatever it was, the answer was firm.

"Sure."

Puck loved that he loved strong women.

**Rachel and Finn**

"Rachel! It's starting soon!"

Rachel appeared at the door, torn between anticipation and trepidation.

"I'm still not sure we should watch this. The lawyers can deal with anything horrible."

Finn reached out for her and she hurried to his protecting embrace, feeling the need for it more today than on any of the many days where he'd used his body to fend off over-enthusiastic fans or photographers. Yet, today, they were alone, at home in Lima, and she had never felt more exposed.

She'd been warned the week before that one of the trashier entertainment channels was planning a tell-all exposé on her. She'd seen such pieces before, ones that had maybe one grain of truth within a silo-full of nonsense. The nonsense never bothered her much, even though some of it seemed designed to be hurtful. It was different now though. She had Finn and Ray.

"Oh, God! You don't think Ray is watching this, do you?"

"I doubt it," Finn said sourly. "She seems to think that it is more important to be seeing her boyfriend than studying or practicing.

"Aw," said Rachel with a smile. "You're such a grumpy dad."

"Humph," he grunted. "I thought insisting she stay at Kurt's rather than have your apartment to herself would keep her focused. Instead, she spends most of her time travelling to and from Harvard or sneaking into your apartment to stay whenever Jonathan's in New York."

"We'll be there soon," Rachel said soothingly, reaching up to stroke his cheek. "You'll be able to be all Mr. Army Discipline in person then."

Bar the odd commitment, Rachel had effectively taken the year off but the following week, she and Finn were moving to New York so she could start rehearsals for a limited run on Broadway. She was saving for later telling him the news that the run was going to be more limited than they thought. She giggled secretly to herself.

Finn looked down at her, still exasperated until he saw her smile and grinned back.

"As for this," he said, pointing at the television, "we don't have to watch if you don't want to but, know this." He pulled her down onto the couch with him and nuzzled her neck. "There is nothing they are going to say that is going to make me love you any less than I do right now. Ray either."

Rachel enjoyed being nuzzled and relaxed until it stopped. He gazed on her with a raised brow.

"Oh, all right," she sighed. "Let's watch. But I will sue their asses if they say anything, _anything_ mean about you."

Finn laughed as he grabbed the remote and switched on the TV. "I'm a big boy, Rachel. I can take care of myself."

"Well, you are a big boy, certainly," she said mischievously, her hand sliding up his leg.

Finn slapped his hand over hers to halt its travelling.

"Behave," he said softly with a smile.

The programme started with the usual sort of tease.

"Never before seen… Diva behaviour… What Rachel Berry did to became a star…"

Rachel became agitated. "What the hell?"

Finn gathered her in closer and kissed the top of her head.

"Shall I turn it off?"

"No," she said, cross. "I want to see what they think they've dredged up."

After a lot of commercials and parts one, two and three where they did nothing more than repeat salacious gossip that Rachel had heard before, she knew.

Jesse.

Rachel glanced up at her husband of eleven months. They had married within a month of reconnecting at the same courthouse where they'd abandoned their first attempt to wed. The guest list was smaller, Burt and Carole, Rachel's dads, Ray, Kurt and George. It was a month before Maxie, as Rachel's PA was now known to avoid confusion with Max Schuster, stopped sulking over his lack of invitation.

On their honeymoon, spent in Paris and London, retracing their last summer together in their teens, Rachel told Finn about Jesse, about what he had done for her and what he had done to them. She'd wanted to tell him sooner, particularly as Finn seemed to think there was something between her and Jesse, but every time she started, he'd kiss her, say it didn't matter and she would get distracted by what followed. On their last night in London, both were so sated that she knew she could finally get it all out.

She told him how Jesse showed up at her door the same day her friend and roommate had left and how he'd directed her to _Honey, Don't_. She explained how hard she'd had to work in the ensuing months and how Jesse had relieved her of day-to-day responsibility for anything, including finding a place to live after she was forced to drop out of NYADA, except preparation for the show. She told him everything she knew about how Jesse obstructed their attempts to reach each other.

"He didn't tell me you called," she'd said. "Not the first time, not the second, not ever. However many times you called, he didn't tell me. Instead, he told you that I'd moved on with him and he told me that you had obviously moved on with your life which was why you hadn't called. That wasn't enough for either of us. You wrote to me and I wrote to you, via your mother. The problem was that Jesse was the one who took care of my mail. I never got your letter, you never got mine."

Finn had interjected to tell her he had received her letter. That surprised her until he told her what the letter said. She realised then that Jesse had switched her note to him for her letter to Finn. This caused her tears and she had to stop and cuddle.

When she'd recovered, she'd finished the story, telling him about her addiction and finding the letters. She'd had them with her in Lima but left them in the motel the night of the reunion where they were lost in the fire. Finally, she confessed that she went to Lima to find him and how she discovered he was married with a new-born daughter.

"I felt you that day," Finn had said into her hair. "I felt a presence and turned around. I saw this figure in a baseball cap run around the corner and all I could think of was you. That's why Ray was christened Rachel."

Rachel had caressed him then and it was a while before she continued.

"It wasn't the universe that kept us apart, Finn, and you didn't make the wrong decision then. Going to New York alone was what I needed to do. And if you were wrong, then so was I for believing you'd stopped loving me or not facing you the day Ray was born. If I had, we would have discovered then that we were always meant to be."

After another long absence of words, Rachel had told Finn that whatever Jesse had done to hurt them as a couple, she could never forget what he had done for her and that while Finn was and always had been more important to her than her career, it stopped her from hating Jesse. Finn had been less convinced that Jesse merited such consideration but he accepted Rachel's judgement and promised that he wouldn't seek out Jesse to confront him.

Looking up at Finn now, she could see him struggle with his promise. She took his hand in hers and squeezed it, praying that whatever Jesse had told them, it wasn't something that would make that struggle harder.

Finn flinched when Jesse came on screen and Rachel held her breath. After his four-minute appearance, Finn turned the television off and gathered his wife in his arms. He felt her shaking and he tightened his hold until he realised that she wasn't crying.

"Why are you laughing?" Finn said, angry on her behalf. "He just told the world you-"

Rachel stopped him with a long deep kiss that threatened to end conversation for the rest of the night. Finn finally fought her off, holding her away from him.

"Rachel, what's going on?"

"He didn't say anything that was untrue."

"That bastard told them about your painkiller addiction!"

Rachel waited for his indignation to evaporate in the light of her smile before saying, "Babe, it was positively trendy in those days to be addicted to painkillers. He knows that. This is him making me look cool." She looked fondly over at the blank screen. "Always thinking about my career, he is. It's why I've forgiven him."

Finn was unimpressed.

"The important thing is," she said, leaning forward to nibble at his ear, "he didn't try to hurt us and he knows we're together now."

Finn was still unmoved but he ceased caring when Rachel moved to kiss his brow, then his eyelids, then his nose, his lips, his chin, his chest above his t-shirt, his abdomen under it and finally-

"Wait!"

Rachel groaned and bobbed up again to stare at him, a little mournful.

"Don't look at me like that," he said, laughing. "It wasn't my idea to have Puck and Estelle stay over tonight so they could go to the brunch fresh." He checked his watch. "They'll be here any minute. Puck wants to have a long talk about his responsibilities as manager at the garage."

"Oh," Rachel exclaimed, crestfallen. "I forgot."

Rachel reconsidered her plans for the rest of the night and trusted the universe that it would give her the time to tell him the news – _their_ news – before the Puckermans arrived. She put her hands on Finn's cheeks.

"Well, it better be now then."

Finn felt confusion but it vanished the longer he bathed in the increasing radiance of her face.

"There's something really important I have to tell you."


End file.
